


Just Don't Fall

by reciprocityfic (orphan_account)



Category: Dancing with the Stars (US) RPF, Maksyl - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Maksyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 34,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/reciprocityfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 18 AU - where Meryl/Val and Maks/Danica are the original partnerships, and how Maks and Meryl find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preseason, Pt. 1

He was stupid.

That was the first real thing she thought about him.

The morning of the cast reveal wasn’t the first time she’d heard of him, or saw him, of course. With Val being her partner, and the brother’s bond being as strong as it was, she’d heard quite a good bit about him, in the week they’d rehearsed in Michigan.  She’d even seen him once, as he and Val skyped one afternoon during a break in practice.  She’d crouched down and waved hello, but only stayed in the conversation for a minute or two. He kept peering at her in a way that made her nervous, even with the barrier of thousands of miles and a computer screen.  So she excused herself, and then asked Val after he’d hung up.

“What’s the deal with your brother?”

“What do you mean?” Val questioned.  She squinted.

“He kept giving me these…funny looks when we were on Skype.”

Val laughed.

“I probably should’ve told you this already, but he knows who you are pretty well.”

She looked at her partner skeptically.

“Wait.  You’re telling me that your brother is into ice dancing?”

“Yes, actually.  He had a girlfriend right after high school who was really into it and made him watch it with her.  He started keeping up with it, even after they broke up.”

She hummed, looking across the room at nothing.

“Well, that’s…unexpected.”

“He’s kept up with most major competitions and exhibitions for years now.  Ice dancing  _does_  have several ballroom elements, so it’s interesting to see how the stuff we do translates to skating.  And I have to say, he really admires you and Charlie.  Was rooting for you  _hard_  during the Olympics.  He might even be a bit of a fan.”

She stared at Val incredulously.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.  He was  _so_ jealous when he found out you were my partner.  I think he might have a bit of a crush.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes.  “I’m sure he’s jealous because he has a crush on me.  Don’t you think he might be jealous because everyone thinks either me or Charlie are going to win?”

“I don’t know,” Val almost sang, teasingly. “I think he has a crush.”

She punched his arm lightly and they both laughed, returning to practice.

 So when she saw him that morning on Good Morning America, in person for the first time, immediately glancing at her the same way he had over Skype, she thought he was stupid.

(That’s a lie, actually. The first thing she thought about him was that he was  _very_ attractive, but that didn’t count.  Because that’s what everyone first thought about him, more or less.)

Not stupid as in unintelligent.  He was smart.

It’s just that the stuff he kept doing was  _stupid_.

The looks were really getting on her nerves.  Not only were they twenty times worse, now that they were personal and not virtual. But they were on national television, and he was all the way on the other side of the group with Danica. Someone could very well notice them. Did he think he was being subtle? He wasn’t being subtle.

He was being stupid.

Afterwards, she was standing off to the side after she and Val were done with the press line.  He’d gone to the bathroom, and she was scanning the crowd, looking for Charlie and not finding him.  She pulled out her phone, when she felt someone come up and lean on the wall beside her.

It was him.  She didn’t have to look up.  She could tell simply by the feel of his presence.  By the waves of tension rolling off her body.

“What are you doing?” she heard his voice ask her.

“Does it matter?”

She was short with him. Because she was still annoyed by those looks he’d been shooting her.  Not only had they been broadcasted to millions, but they’d also made her feel…uneasy.  Or unsteady.  Or something.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. She was tired and hungry and she missed her parents and her brother and Michigan, even though she’d only been away for twenty-four hours.  She couldn’t wait until a few weeks from now, when she would be too busy to miss anything.

“Of course it matters. You’re my brother’s partner. Which means you’re my partner.”

“Not quite.”

“Almost.”

She finally looked up at him.  He was staring down at her with a dumb smirk that had accompanied the majority of his looks that morning.

She kept her face steady, but inside her stomach was twisting.  He made her feel on edge.  And all polite kindness and formality flew right of her mind.  She told him what she really thought.

“That’s stupid.”

His smirk grew into a full grin.

“That’s family, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

He rolled his eyes, and turned his body towards her, leaning his arm against the wall.

“I call everyone babe. I call  _Tony_ babe.”

She turned to mirror him, crossing her arms across her chest.  She stared him in the eyes, not giving him an inch.  He didn’t intimidate her.  He was so much  _bigger_ than her, in every physical sense.  This was made glaringly obvious by their faceoff.  

But he didn’t intimidate her.  There was a certain hardness about him, in his stance and his voice and his face. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

His eyes were soft.

Besides, she was an Olympic gold medalist.  She wasn’t intimidated by a simple, Russian ballroom dancer.

“Well,” she retorted, “I don’t want you to call me that.”

She didn’t really care if he called her babe.  But she was annoyed and for some reason her instincts were telling her to make this hard for him.

“What  _would_ you like me to call you?”

“You could start with Meryl. Since that’s, you know, my name.”

The grin on his face faltered, and he pursed his lips, squinting his eyes at her.

“You’re sassy.  I didn’t expect it.”

“I’m  _not_  sassy, usually.  You must be pulling it out of me.”

He laughed gently, and sighed, relaxing his shoulders, looking at her like a normal person for the first time in what felt like forever.  The softness in his eyes melted into his expression.  And it calmed her.  She let herself smile at him.

He pushed himself off the wall, and bowed his head slightly.

“I haven’t introduced myself in person yet, Meryl.  Maks Chmerkovskiy, at your service.  When I’m not working with Danica, I am at your service.”

“Nice to meet you, Maks Chmerkovskiy.”

He smiled.

“Nice accent on the last name.”

“Thank you.”

“No, really.  It’s almost as good as mine.”

She chuckled.

“A thoroughly Russian coach will do that to you.”

She paused, and bit her lip. Wondered if it would be showing off.

Going for it. Whatever.  She was feeling bold.

“Я говорю немного русский тоже.”

He stood up straight, his jaw slightly open.  He was impressed, obviously.

It made her feel good.

“She speaks a bit of Russian too,” he translated, the slightest hint of awe in his voice.  “No kidding.”

Val came up behind her, put his hand on her back.

“I see you’ve met my brother.”

“Did you know she spoke Russian?” Maks asked Val before she could say anything, sincerity lacing his expression.

Val laughed, slinging his arm around her shoulders, saying something about how she could do a lot of things, but she didn’t really listen, because Maks had sent another glance her way. Except this one wasn’t towards her face, but at Val’s arm, draped so casually around her.  It was more subtle than the ones during Good Morning America. But it wasn’t subtle enough.  She caught it.  Along with the way his lips pressed together before he brought his eyes back up, landing on her for a split second before settling on his brother.

_You’re so stupid_ , she thought.

“I need to go find Danica,” he said.  “She was talking to Candace.  There was lots of squealing and hugging going on so I left.”

“Aren’t they supposed to be rivals?” she questioned.

“Aren’t you and Charles supposed to be rivals?” he countered.

“Hmmm. Touché.”

“Can we be rivals?” Val asked Maks.

“Never, babe,” he answered, pulling Val towards him for a hug and then focusing on her.

“Now, listen.  I’m his older brother, which means I’m in charge. So if he gives you any trouble, you tell me and I’ll take care of it.  Remember, you’re my partner too.”

“Almost,” she reminded him.

He smiled.

“Almost.”

He took her hand suddenly, and before she could question it, he pressed his lips to the back.  He dropped it gently, and then turned to leave.

“I’ll being seeing you, Meryl.  Val.”

Val laughed again, and started going on about his brother and how he wasn’t really in charge but she wasn’t really listening because she was watching his back as he walked away and the place on her hand where he’d kissed her was still warm.

She may have melted a little.

And that was  _stupid_.

He was already stupid enough for the both of them.


	2. Preseason, Pt. 2

She grew to understand what Maks meant when he said that she would be his partner, too.   _Almost_.

She saw him an absurd amount, compared to how much she saw other cast members.  He and his brother really were a package deal.  Apparently, being a Chmerkovskiy brought with it the right to interrupt each other’s practices at will to ask for input or dumb favors or just to be an idiot.  And joint meals with each other and their partners.  And general Chmerkovskiy-like behavior and conversation.  She picked up more Russian by the day.  Before long, she knew all the names of their family members and close friends so well that she felt she was a Chmerkovskiy, sometimes.

The brothers talked about their family a lot.  It was obvious that they were the most important part of their lives.  She respected this, and understood, because God knew how much she loved her mom and Dad and Clayton.  How she missed them and home more and more by the day.  Her heart ached even for Charlie, though he was just a few rooms down the hall from her most of the time.  He might as well have been back in Michigan, with the amount she saw him. She would talk about him, and her family, and home, if there was someone there like that to talk to.

Val and Maks also talked about each other a lot.  She swore that Val must’ve brought him up about a dozen times over the course of rehearsal every day, with a smile. “My brother” this.  With a roll of his eyes. “My brother” that.  With a chuckle. “My brother” whatever.

_“My brother, my brother, my fucking brother.”_

This didn’t bother her either.  Because most times the stories did have some sort of valid point to what she and Val were doing. Or were genuinely funny, or endearing.

Whatever.

Plus, she liked Maks. He was witty.  He was smart, except when he looked at her and he  _wasn’t_.  He was easy to talk with.  He was easy to listen to, thankfully, because he liked to talk.  As did his brother.  And Danica. So when the four of them got together, it was hard to get a word in, which she didn’t mind.  She’d always preferred to be quieter, observing and listening to those around her.  Since she was a child, she had been able to sit for hours and really hear someone, whether it be a friend or a teacher or a book or music.

All three of them – Maks, Val, and Danica – said interesting and intelligent things.  But she found there to be something about Maks.  She liked listening to him the best.  She wasn’t exactly sure why.  

(He made her laugh the hardest.  And made her think the most.  She found herself most compelled to add to the conversation when he was speaking. There was something about him that was more captivating than the others.  His voice was nice.)

She knew why she liked listening to him the best.  But her reasons were silly.  So she pretended she didn’t know why.

Maks, when he wasn’t being stupid, relaxed her.  Brought her gentle smiles and easy amusement.  Made her forget about Michigan more than anyone else did.  Even Val.

He was the closet person she had to a friend other than Val.

But then he would be stupid.

He would stop talking at lunch and look at her like he did the first day.  Ask to watch her and Val’s dance and make her mess up because she could feel his eyes on her throughout the entire thing.  He would say her name a certain way when they were alone (when Danica had gone home or out with someone else and Val was taking a call or using the restroom).  He would draw it out in a certain way that made her stomach curl.

_“Meryl_.”

In those moments, she felt the opposite of relaxed.  She felt like she was standing three steps from the edge of a cliff, and he stood behind her, teasing.  As if he would push her off.

It wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

(But as days went by, she began to wonder if maybe it wasn’t the worst feeling, either.)

*             *             *

She  _liked_  Maks.

She liked him more than she expected to and more than she probably should have.  But he made her forget about a lot of stuff.  Like homesickness and nervousness and frustration when she felt she wasn’t getting something Val was trying to teach her exactly right.  He chased away thoughts of exhaustion and how much more tired she would be when Stars on Ice started in a few weeks.

Maks made her feel better, so she stopped worrying and just let them be.  Let herself laugh with him.  Let them have silly conversations together.  Let him pull her into a hug and put a hand on her shoulder without stiffening up like a statue.

She even let him be stupid without getting defensive.  She let him look at her, and she looked back.  She’d catch his eye when he was watching her and smile.  She said his name in a sort of way that matched the way he said hers.

_“Maks.”_

It stopped feeling stupid after a little bit.  She wasn’t standing by a cliff anymore.  Rather, she was floating in a pool of clear, cool water, bobbing up and down.  The sun warmed her skin and he wasn’t behind her anymore; he was in front of her.  And instead of threatening to push, he was inviting her deeper.

It wasn’t one of the worst feelings, by a mile.

Instead, it made the corners of her lips turn up whenever those moments slipped into her mind. Even hours afterwards, when she was eating dinner in the small condo she had rented in LA for the next few months. Smiling at nothing, at the picture of him she saw inside her head.  She would call her mother at night, and her voice was so light that her mother would sometimes ask.

_“What’s gotten into you lately?”_

And she would shake her head and grin to herself, whisper,  _“Nothing. I’m just having fun.”_

It wasn’t one of the worst feelings.

And sometimes at night, as she would fall asleep, he would fill her mind and she would smile.

And she would think it was one of the best.


	3. Week 1

Maks stayed by her side nearly the whole night of the premiere.  She was thankful for it.  It wasn’t that she was so nervous – she and Charlie had performed and succeeded under pressure numerous times on their way to claiming their dream – but whatever anxiety she did have, he expelled with every chuckle and joke and tap against her skin.  He eased her to the point that she was almost euphoric in her enjoyment of the show. She felt beautiful and confident. She felt free.

Either Val or Danica or both were with them much of the night.  Tony, Charlie, and Sharna visited regularly.  Peta, Karina, Cheryl, Derek, and Henry were there intermittently.

But Maks was there the most and she remembered him the most and she enjoyed him the most.

The night ended with Charlie on top of the leaderboard, and it didn’t bother her in the slightest. Because it was  _Charlie_ , of course.  But also because for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel pressured to be on top.  Because she had a gold medal and it was Dancing with the Stars and she was tied for third, who the frick cared?

Charlie called her that night, after an after-party/dinner that she spent tucked in between the Chmerkovskiys, eating and drinking and laughing, Val’s arm around her shoulders, pressed up against Maks without a care in the world. She let her head rest on his chest, over his heart, at one point. And while one of Maks’ arms was slung around Danica, and Val’s arm cocooned Meryl’s shoulders, Maks’ other arm snaked around her waist, and his hand curled around her hip, his thumb stroking up and down gently.

She didn’t care.  She was floating.  He made her forget.

She  _liked_ Maks.

“Greetings, our most revered and honored leader,” she told Charlie.

His laugh crackled through the receiver.

“Hi to you too, Meryl.”

“I mean, really.  Top of the leaderboard.  Jeez, can’t you lose at anything?”

“Hey, you weren’t too bad yourself.”

She had just finished showering a few minutes before he called her, and she had placed him on speaker and was combing her hair out in front of the mirror while she talked to him, wrapped in a towel.  The brunette locks were longer than she normally kept them, but she’d barely had time to  _breathe_  since Sochi, let alone get a haircut.

“Tied for third? Charles, that’s almost off the podium. Marina would be livid.”

“Marina isn’t here.”

“I know,” she answered, smirking at her reflection.  “It’s kind of nice.”

Charlie hummed on the other end of the line.  She felt the need to clarify.

“I love her, don’t get me wrong.  And I’m so grateful for all she’s done for us.  But it’s just nice to not have…”

“The pressure?” Charlie finished.

“Yeah.  I mean, the show was so much  _fun_.  Wasn’t it fun?”

“Definitely.”

She moved towards the dresser, pulling out a pair of pajama shorts and an old t-shirt whose logo she didn’t bother to read.

“It was nice to just be there and not be crunching numbers or worrying about judges and scores and having nightmares about falling on our faces in front of the entire planet and completely missing our life goal.  Or missing our life goal by  _that much_  and getting silver.”

“You mean winning the Mirror Ball isn’t your life goal?”

“It is.  I didn’t want to tell you because I thought I might hurt you feelings.  But fair warning, if you get in the way of my trophy, I won’t be concerned with sparing your feelings.”

“Seventeen years of partnership irrevocably splintered by the ballroom.”

“Without hesitation.”

Charlie laughed again, and she pulled her t-shirt over her head.

“No,” he began, “you’re right.  It was awesome not to feel that spotlight.  And yeah, I had fun.  You…looked like you had fun.”

She was about to relate some remark Tom had made to Val, when she stopped.  In the middle of pulling up her shorts.  Something in Charlie’s tone made her suspicious, made her think that his words held some sort of second meaning.  She stared at her phone where it lay on the nightstand.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Nothing.  Just that it looked like you had fun.  You know, with Val.”

He paused, and she waited, finishing getting dressed, knowing he had something else to say.

“It looked like you and Maks had fun.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

She stared at the phone for a few more moments before she picked it up and brought it to her ear, plopping down on her bed.

“Mer?”

“What?”

Charlie sighed.

“What, Charlie?  Maks and I are friends.”

“I know.  I could tell.”

She sat up.

“What is  _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.  It’s just that you two spent a lot of time together.”

“So?”

“Like you spent the  _whole night_  together.  At the show and at dinner.”

She rolled her eyes, and tried to think of something snappy to say back to him, but she could feel herself begin to blush.

Because Charlie  _was_  Michigan and Charlie  _was_  home and he made her remember.  He turned oceans back into cliffs.

He made her remember how stupid it was.

“Well, you spent the whole night with Sharna, so.”

She meant for the retort to come out sharper than it had.  Instead, it sounded like an excuse.  Like she was twelve and the principle had just caught her cutting class, and now she was sitting in front of him trying to give an explanation.

“Sharna and I are  _partners_ , Mer.”

“Maks is my partner.”

“Um.  No he isn’t.”

“More or less,” she murmured, leaning back down onto the mattress.  She brought one hand up to rest in her still-damp hair.  “He and Val are attached at the hip.  When you get one Chmerkovskiy brother, you get them both.”

Charlie hummed again.

“Charlie, I’m serious.”

“So you’re telling me that your relationship with Maks can fully be explained by the fact that he hangs around Val a lot?”

“Our  _friendship_  can be explained by that fact, yeah.”

“Really?”

She exhaled loudly, and picked at a fuzz on the comforter.

“I don’t know.  Maks is stupid.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.  We’re just friends.  You probably just noticed it because I’m Meryl and you always have your eye on me out of habit.”

“That would be a sound theory if other people hadn’t brought it up to me because they thought I would know.”

She sat up again.

“ _What_?  Who?”

“Is it important?”

She closed her eyes.

“ _Shoot._ ”

“Hey, Mer, I’m just giving you a heads up.  If you’re enjoying yourself, it doesn’t matter – “

“Yes it does, Charlie,” she interrupted, looking out the window as she spoke to him.  She couldn’t see the stars here, but the moonlight created silhouettes.  It was too dark to make out anything specific.  She heard the faint sound of traffic as it passed by.

“I stopped paying attention and played along with him even though I knew he was being stupid because he took my mind off of home and it felt better.  But that was a mistake.”

She bit down on her lip, and all of the sudden she felt like crying.

“Meryl,” Charlie said gently.

“It’s late and we both have to get up early tomorrow.”

She rushed through goodbye and even managed to crack a joke before she hung up the phone.  She made sure her alarm was set and then curled up under the covers, because she was sleepy and she had a thousand thoughts running through her head that she didn’t want to face right away.

She closed her eyes and began to drift immediately.  She was exhausted, and nothing – no inner turmoil or noisy LA nights – could keep her awake.  Just as she was on the edge of sleep, though, her phone vibrated.  She groaned, reached over blindly in the darkness until she found it.

She looked at the screen and her heart sank.

It was Maks.

She could hear the way he would greet her if she answered in her head, as clearly as if he was in her bedroom with her.  The way he would extend her name, put a slight drawl on the ‘r’.

_“Meryl.”_

She hit ignore.


	4. Week 2, Pt. 1

“Good morning, princess.”

(He’d taken to calling her that, on the way to lunch that first day.  He and Danica had been seated behind her and Val, and he must’ve weaseled her number out of his brother, because halfway through the ride she’d started getting texts from him, asking what he could call her.  She sent a glare Val’s way and he’d held his hands up in a sort of surrender, mumbling, “Sorry, he was persistent and he was going to get your number eventually,” under his breath.

_Maks: If you’re not going to let me call you babe you have to let me call you something._

_Meryl: Meryl works._

_Maks: Too formal. We’re partners remember?_

_Meryl: No we’re not._

_Maks: Ok. What should I call you?_

And then he’d texted her a list of increasingly horrid and ridiculous nicknames, from ‘pookie’ to ‘motherfucker’ and everything in between.  When he brought up princess, she rolled her eyes.

_Meryl: Sure. Princess. Good one. Stick with that._

_Maks: Awesome it’s settled.  I like it._

_Meryl: Wait_

_Meryl: No_

_Meryl: I was being sarcastic_

And he hadn’t texted her back the rest of the day.  She ended up as Meryl half the time, and princess the other.  And she told herself that she didn’t fight it because there were bigger things to worry about and his dumb nickname wasn’t worth the energy.)

She saw him, when she looked up into the mirror from where she sat on the floor, stretching.  Years of skating practice had conditioned her to be up every morning by 6:15, so she always arrived at the studio at least an hour before Val, taking some quiet time to herself to warm-up, listen to music, close her eyes and relax.

Except for the past few days her quiet time had been interrupted by Maks, who arrived a half-hour before Val, at least forty minutes before Danica.  Even though Val had told her in one of his many stories that Maks was  _hell_  to deal with in the mornings.

It had been annoying the first day but the second day it was bearable and by the third day, she was glad he was there.

_Stupid_.

He set his bag and water down and sat on the floor, looking at his phone and then shoving it in his pocket. She adverted her eyes to her feet when he looked up at her.

“Quiet this morning, aren’t we, princess?”

She hummed in response, stretching out her legs in front of her.  She tried to pick out patterns in the wood paneling on the floor.

She had to tell him they had to stop this.  That they had to stop being stupid.  That he had to stop making her want to be stupid.

(Even though she liked this and she liked Maks and it hadn’t even felt all that stupid anymore before Charlie called her.)

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

She finally found a mildly interesting picture in the wood.  She traced it with her fingers.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

She shrugged.

“Meryl.”

He didn’t hang on the r this time.  Instead, he said it so gently.  Like she was sleeping, and he had to wake her.  But she looked so peaceful that he hated to disturb her.  So he said it quietly, like a caress, and his hand reached out to touch her, to sweep a stray piece of hair from her forehead.

It didn’t make her upset. It didn’t set her on edge or excite her.

It made her sad.

She could feel him approaching, and then his hand was on her shoulder.  She stiffened, and scooted away, turning herself in his direction.

She caught a glimpse of him in the mirror as she turned, and he had frozen as she moved, hand still reaching out to her.  His face had looked confused, and disappointed.  Hurt.

She couldn’t look at him, because she would lose her willpower and let him convince her that it was okay, that they were  _okay_. That this wasn’t even anything and Charles was being paranoid and that she didn’t have to worry about everything so much.

And then Charlie would talk to her later and she’d have to feel like this all over again.

She kept her eyes on the wooden floor.

“We have to stop this,” she told him.

“Stop what?”

“ _This_.”

“What is  _this_?”

“ _I don’t know_.  That’s the point.”

He was silent.  She heard him adjust her position across from her. She was trying to find another pattern and failing miserably.

“Why do you come early every morning and sit with me?”

“Because,” he began immediately, “I’m here and Danica isn’t.  No one is, at this ungodly hour in the morning.  Except you.  So why should we sit in two studios by ourselves when we could keep each other company for a few minutes?”

“Why do you show up at this ungodly hour, if Danica isn’t here?”

The floor squeaked – there was one loose board that she and Val had hit on every third step in a portion of their Cha-Cha last week.   Maks fidgeted.

“I like mornings.”

“Val tells me otherwise.”

“What does Val know?”

“A lot.  Especially about you.”

He sighed loudly.

“So what?  I come to see you.  We’re friends.”

“Friends don’t wake up nearly two hours early when they’re completely beat just to keep the other company when the other could be by themselves perfectly fine.”

“Do you not like the fact that I come?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I like it.  That’s the problem.”

“Why is it a problem?”

“Because I barely know you.”

His next words were softer. She almost heard a smile in his voice. As if she was being silly and he thought it was cute.

“That’s the reason I come every morning.”

Her heart broke.  She could only whisper, to keep her voice from wavering.

“That’s stupid, Maks.”

“I’m failing to see why trying to get to know you is stupid.”

“Not just that.  The whole thing.  We come from two different planets, Maks.  And maybe it would be fun for a little bit, but it would never work out in the end and someone would just end up getting really hurt.”

She waited for him to answer her.  She gave up her search for patterns, and pulled her knees up to her chest, intertwining her fingers and twiddling her thumbs.

“This doesn’t have to be  _that_.”

“ _Maks_.”

They both knew what this was turning into.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded.

He was silent for a long time, and then exhaled loudly.  He sounded frustrated.  The floor squeaked.

“Would you at least look at me first?”

She bit her lip, steeled her nerves, and then purposefully dragged her eyes up to meet his.  She expected to see some kind of emotion in his face.  Instead, it was flat.  Sullen.

His gaze searched hers for a few seconds, and then he nodded once, pressing his lips together in a hard line before rising.

“Whatever you want, princess,” he told her.

She didn’t know what to say so she didn’t say anything.  He walked to the wall and gathered his belongings, and then went to the door. He placed his hand on the doorknob, and then turned halfway towards her.

Both of them stared straight ahead.  She couldn’t look at him longer than a moment, but a quick glance over at him showed that he had the same problem.

“I’ll be seeing you, I guess,” he mumbled.

“Bye,” she whispered.

She heard the door open, and then close, a bit too forcefully.

It was easier than she expected it to be.  She thought he would fight her.

Maybe she was flattering herself.

She guessed it was a good thing.  The smoothness of it.

_At least that’s over with now_ , she thought.

She tried to feel better about everything.

She felt worse.

She messed up all of Val’s choreography to the point that he ended practice three hours early and told her she needed to go home and clear her head for tomorrow.  She went for a run and then made herself dinner and then got a shower.  She was about to crawl in bed, but she realized it was only five.

She crawled into bed anyway.

She turned on some show on the Discovery Channel, one that was pretty in the background when she didn’t pay attention to it.  She pulled out a book and read the same paragraph three times without absorbing anything before tossing is aside.  She stared at the TV, not thinking about anything, her phone on her nightstand.

She hoped it would ring. It did.  But it was her mom and her best friend from high school and nothing felt better.  It only felt worse.  She had to hang up with both of them prematurely so she wouldn’t start crying. The last thing she needed was for them to worry about her.

Busy LA had never felt lonelier.


	5. Week 2, Pt. 2

The rest of the second week passed without incident.  She caught on to Val’s choreography with surprising ease the next day.  After her initial overwhelming, she’d managed to put her turmoil over Maks in a box in her mind and lock it away.  She was good at compartmentalizing; if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be an Olympic gold medalist. **  
**

She asked Val to stop talking about him, though.  He stared at her, brow furrowed, and was about to inquire more deeply when she gave him a look that told him to drop it, to let it go and not think about it and just do what she asked.  And, to Val’s credit, he did.

She barely left Val’s side during the second show.  They had a swing dance that was high-energy and had a few fun lifts.  She liked it a lot.  There was a bit of tension throughout the cast when a surprise double elimination was announced, but no one unexpected went home.  Everything was more or less the same as last week, expect she ended up in a three-way tie for first, rather than tied for third.

Also, he didn’t speak to her once.

He barely looked at her.  He talked to everyone, congratulated them all with a high-five or slap on the back. Hell, he  _hugged_  Charlie.

But not her.  Sure, he pulled Val into a hug and kissed him on the cheek after they received their scores.  But he avoided her like an open flame or the plague or some pariah that would attack him if he got too close.

She tried to not let it bother her, because so what if he didn’t like her?  Everyone else did.  And she barely knew him and it was stupid anyway.

But the thing was, they had been friends.  Real friends.

They were supposed to be partners, almost.

Charlie pulled her aside after the show, before they went out to eat with everyone.  He wrapped his arms around her.

“Your dance was great.”

“Thanks,” she told him. “So was yours.  Who knew that Charlie could tango?”

He smiled, and then hesitated a moment before moving his head to whisper in her ear.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what I said last week.  I didn’t mean to make you upset and I didn’t mean to make things awkward between the two of you.”

He let her go, and she only let her face falter for a fraction of a second before she forced an eye-roll.

“Don’t be.  It needed to be said. It’s better that it’s taken care of now, anyway.  It doesn’t bother me.  It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Charlie grabbed her hand, and squeezed it once.

“Whatever you say, Mer. Just…I’m sorry.”

At dinner, Danica took up the place next to her opposite Val.  Everyone was happy again.  She wondered idly if that would change, eventually.  She was familiar with competition, and knew the more imminent the fear of losing and dream of winning became, the less friendly everyone was towards each other.

Granted, that was usually in competition for things like national titles and medals.  This was for a sparkly piece of plastic shaped like a mirror ball.

She excused herself from the gathering earlier than she had last week.  She squeezed Danica, ran a hand through Charlie’s hair, and kissed Val on the cheek before telling him that she was already dead on her feet and it was only going to get worse from here.  He reminded her what time practice started (as  _if_  she would be late), and then she was off.

She felt eyes on her as she walked towards the door of the restaurant, but she didn’t turn around to see who they belonged to.  She feared the way her heart would race if it was who she thought ( _hoped_ ) it was, and the disappointment that would consume her if it wasn’t.

She stood off to the side of the restaurant, in the shadows, while she waited for her driver to pull the car around.  She didn’t know what to do with herself while she waited, so she pulled out her phone. Her driver’s name was George, and he was a quiet, upper-middle aged man with thinning salt and pepper hair and perpetual five o’clock shadow.  They didn’t talk that much, but from what she gathered, he was married and had a kid who just graduated from college.  He seemed nice enough, but she was still unfamiliar with the concept of drivers and confused as to why she needed one.

She was thinking about texting Brooke, even though it was the middle of the night in Michigan, when she heard her partner’s voice ring through the warm night air.

“Why are you booking it so early?”

“I’m tired.”

Her stomach dropped when she heard Maks’ voice.  She settled deeper into the shadows, and put her phone away.

“You’re also grumpy,” Val answered.

“Fuck off.”

“Case in point.  Also, you won’t look at my partner and my partner won’t look at you.”

He didn’t answer, so Val pressed more.

“Last week, I was worried that she liked you more than me.  Hell, I was worried you two were going to start making out halfway through lunch most days. So what did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything to her.”

“So what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Val.”

“So something  _did_  happen.”

“On my list of things I want to talk about with my brother Val, this is literally the last one at the bottom.”

“But,  _bro_.  I mean, you did want to jump her, didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

“You kind of made it obvious.  With all your laughing and teasing and touching and such.”

“Well, she doesn’t want to jump me.  So we don’t really have to worry about it.”

Neither of them spoke. She wanted to disappear, and wondered what in the world was taking her driver so long.

“Sorry, babe,” Val said. It sounded like there was genuine regret in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“That  _sucks_.”

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that since K-“

“Valentin, can we drop it? Please?”

He interrupted his brother before Val could finish whatever name he was going to say, and she cursed the part of her that was morbidly curious as to whom she was up against.

Up against.  As if this was a competition for his affections. She mentally smacked herself.

Just then, her car pulled up, and she sprinted to the door and jumped inside, hoping the two brothers wouldn’t realize that she had been hiding within earshot the entire time.


	6. Week 3, Pt. 1

Judging by the way Val kept looking at her at practice on Tuesday, they had figured out she overheard them.

“Just say it already,” she told him during one of their breaks, when the crew had gone to lunch.

“Is eavesdropping another one of your many superb talents?”

“It is when the two idiots trying to have a private conversation do so outside of a busy restaurant without checking their surroundings.”

“Sorry, I usually always inspect the bushes before I want to talk to someone.”

She took a long drink of water from her bottle.

“So you know that my brother wants to jump you?”

She tried not to choke on the water she was still swallowing.

“Or  _wanted_  to, I guess I should say.”

“He didn’t want to  _jump_ me.  He barely knows me.”

“That doesn’t matter to my brother.  There are these people that he sees and he just… _knows_.  I think it may be a problem, actually.  He falls in love too easily.”

Love.  Hah.

“Well, any questions or clarifications needed about our conversation?”

He was half-kidding. And she was just about to brush it off with another dry comeback, when she paused.  Because she’d be left wondering if she let it go.

“Yes, actually,” she answered.

Val grinned.

“You are shameless.”

She ignored him.

“At one point, you said you hadn’t seen him look at someone that way since…and then he cut you off. But who were you going to say?”

She waited for an answer. Val stared down at the floor, a smirk on his face.

“I think it started with a k,” she said, trying to goad him into telling her.  “Is it Kate Upton?  Didn’t he date her?  Because I googled her and she’s…”

She trailed off.  Val put his arm around her shoulders.

“She and I aren’t very much alike,” she finished.

“It wasn’t Kate Upton,” Val answered easily.  “He was never too serious about Kate.  It was more of a fling.  She was too young for him, and they wanted different things in life, and they just weren’t going to go anywhere.”

“Who, then?”

Val hesitated, and rubbed his hands over his face.

“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

“No, I’ll tell you. It’s just…Maks would  _kill me_.  So don’t let him know.”

She pantomimed zipping her lips.

“That’s cute,” Val remarked, and then grabbed her hand with a sigh.

“So.  Who?”

“I was going to say Karina.”

She nearly fell off her chair.

“Karina, as in dancer Karina?  Karina Smirnoff?”

“Yep.”

“But…weren’t they engaged?”

“Yes.  He was head over heels for her.  But like I said, he falls in love too easily.”

“What happened?”

Val frowned.

“She cheated on him. Tore his heart out and stomped on it. It was bad.”

She paused, fingers fiddling with a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her bun.

“He looks at me like that? Like he did his former fiancé?”

He nodded.

“I don’t believe it for a second.”

“Just reporting what I see, babe.”

*             *             *

Val invited her to dinner at his place the next day.

“Are you cooking?” she asked.

She’d seen the remnants of breakfasts or lunches or snacks that he brought with him to the studio. They didn’t look appetizing.

He smirked.

“No.  Maks is.”

As if that wanted to make her go more.

He sensed her hesitation, and slung an arm around her shoulders.  He told her that it was nothing, that Maks was bringing Danica, and Tony and his wife were coming, and that Jenna might even stop by.

“Come on.  It’ll be fun.”

She sighed.

“Should I bring anything?”

Val laughed, and pulled her into a hug.

“No.  My brother is very particular.”

Her stomach flipped.

“I’ll bet he is,” she mumbled into Val’s t-shirt.

The next day she brought a change of clothes to practice so they could go straight to the apartment shared by the Chmerkovskiy brothers and their friend, Serge.  She’d woken up fifteen minutes early to make sure she’d had time to prepare for the evening, and she’d still arrived twenty minutes later than she usually did because she couldn’t pick a damn outfit.  Everything she pulled out of the closet either wasn’t as flattering as she’d remembered it being, or made it look like she was either trying too hard or not trying enough.  Exasperated, she’d finally thrown something in her bag that she didn’t even really register.  She told herself she was having trouble because half of her wardrobe was in Michigan. Besides, Val had seen her as a sweaty mess at the end of some rehearsals.  Especially after their swing.  No one else really mattered that much.  She definitely wasn’t going to dress up for dinner by Maksim frickin’ Chmerkovskiy.

She tried to get Val to let her run back to her place and take a shower first, but he insisted that was unnecessary and told her it would make them late and that his brother was  _very particular_.  And that included people being on time for meals.  She thought she stunk.  He assured her she was fine.

“You smell like fucking flowers, babe.”

They picked up Jenna on their way, and Meryl got of the car to get into the back, so she could sit next to Val.  But Jenna grabbed her and hugged her before she could crawl into her seat, greeting her cheerfully and complementing her shoes.  She thanked her, and took a deep breath, getting into the car.  She was beginning to feel better about dinner. She really liked Jenna, based on their interactions backstage during the shows and dress rehearsals.  Tony and his wife were sweethearts.  Danica was easy to talk to.  And Val was Val.

There were going to be enough people that she probably wouldn’t even have to interact with him. Not really.

She still felt nauseous as the three of them walked into the apartment.

_Pull it together, Davis_ , she thought.   _You won an Olympic gold medal.  You shouldn’t be nervous about eating at a stupid boy’s house_.

Val shouted a hello into the kitchen, and Maks responded with a gruff, “Don’t bother me.”  The three of them laughed, and then she absentmindedly followed Val and Jenna into the living room.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him.  Not now. Not with him just in the other room. Because she hadn’t interacted with him in over a week and she was so afraid that she was going to make this awkward for everyone.

She tried to find something to distract herself.  She looked around the room.  It was minimally decorated.  She could tell that it was a space occupied by three bachelors, at random intervals throughout the year.

She settled on Val and Jenna.  They sat next to each other on the couch, hands intertwined, Jenna leaning against him. Val beamed at her, and leaned down to kiss her on the temple.

She smiled.  She hadn’t realized that they were together, but it made her happy.  Jenna was so sweet.

She made a mental note to tease him about it at rehearsal the next day.

There was a knock on the door, and Val got up to greet Tony and his wife, Lina.  By the time they made their way into the living room, hugs were given and hellos exchanged, Maks was putting food on the table, and urging people to come take their seats.

The group shuffled to the table.  Meryl counted the place settings and frowned.  They were one short.

She realized the group was one person short.

“Where’s Danica?” she asked idly, to no one in particular.

“She had to cancel,” Maks answered from behind her, and she jumped at the sound of his voice.  He placed a bowl onto the table, and whispered  _“Sorry”_ to her before continuing.  “Draco was sick or something, so she went home to take care of him.”

He was standing the closest to her that he had since their discussion before rehearsal.  And although she was screaming inside, he didn’t seem to be bothered or think anything of it.  And neither did anyone else.  If she could keep herself in check, this had a chance of turning out swell.

Val and Jenna sat on one side of the table, Tony and Lina on the other, while she and Maks sat at the heads of the table, across from each other.

Dinner was easy; as she guessed, there were few blank spots in the conversation.  Tony, Val, and Maks joked with each other nearly the entire time. Jenna was  _hilarious_ , and Meryl’s affection for her grew with each of her sassy comments regarding the boys.  Lina asked her innocent questions, about Sochi and whether she liked LA or not or how Val was treating her in practice.

She was right - she didn’t have to interact with him at all.  But she did anyway.  Because so far, this was going better than she had imagined and she was happy.

“Maks, this food is delicious.”

He looked up from his plate. Their eyes locked.

It was the first time they’d had sustained eye contact in more than a week.

Val, Jenna, Tony, and Lina kept talking.  But for a moment, she forgot about the others and focused completely on him.

He looked exhausted.  She wondered why,  _wanted_ to know why.  But she had surrendered that privilege after their conversation.  She longed for the days when she would not only have known what caused his fatigue, but would have also laughed about it with him over lunch or drinks by now.

His face was clean-shaven, and it took years off him.  His hair was messy.  He’d run a hand through it one too many times during their conversation at the table. His lips were turned up into a half-smile.

“Thank you, Meryl,” he murmured.

No one else paid attention to him.

He was all she saw, in that moment.

Her subconscious registered Lina asking her a question about her brother, and she stared at him for one long second before turning to the woman and answering with a smile.

He didn’t say anything the rest of dinner.

After they were done, she offered to help with the dishes, but Jenna took her hand and told her that was the boys’ job, and the two of them walked back into the living room with Lina.  They talked about nothing until the men were done cleaning.  By that time, Tony and Lina had to leave to be home in time to put their kids to bed.

The apartment quieted down considerably after that.  Meryl sat down on the couch awkwardly, not knowing what to do.  Val came in and fell into a seat, turning on the television and flipping through the channels until he settled on  _Roman Holiday._ Jenna curled into his side.  

“Didn’t peg you as a 1950s romantic comedy kind of guy, Val,” Meryl said.

“Get to know me a little,” he retorted.

Meryl pulled her feet up and laid down on the couch.

“I love this movie,” Jenna sighed.  “It reminds me of my mother.  We used to watch it together on snow days.”

Maks walked into the living room at that moment, a new bottle of wine in one hand and four glasses gathered in his arms.  He set the glasses on the table and popped the bottle’s cork, pouring drinks and handing them out.  He sat on the ground next to Meryl’s feet.

She started to feel her nervousness creep up on her again.  This isn’t the kind of party she signed up for: watching a sappy, black-and-white movie in a dimly lit room, curled up on his couch, glass of wine in hand, Val and Jenna cuddling next to her while she and Maks sat there and didn’t talk to one another.

But she tried to ignore it, told herself it was fine.  They were just watching a movie.  She took another sip of wine and tried to lose herself in the story unfolding onscreen.

It  _was_  fine, for a little while.  But then Val and Jenna drank a little too much of the wine.  So they opened another bottle. And drank too much of that one too.

And started making out.

To the point where it was getting kind of uncomfortable.

“Your room is down the hall, bro,” Maks mumbled.

But Val was drunk and Jenna was drunk and they weren’t listening.

Maks sighed, and then, picking up the wine, stood and turned towards her.  He stretched out his hand.

“Come on, princess.”

She moved her eyes from the screen to his face, and then to his hand.  Back up to his face.

She thought for a moment. As she saw it, her three option were:

1)      Stay in the living room by herself and try to finish the movie while Val and Jenna basically groped each other.

2)      Go and be alone with the man she hadn’t interacted with in over a week, who made her heart race and who was all-around pretty stupid, even if he hadn’t had a chance to show it yet today.

3)      Walk home in the dark by herself.

She seriously considered number three for a few minutes, but she knew he would never allow it.  She sighed and stared at his hand.

_Fuck it, Meryl._

She grabbed it and he hoisted her up.  He dropped her hand and then took her wine glass, setting it on the table.

“You won’t be needing that.”

He turned.  She followed him out onto the back patio.  He walked over to the edge and leaned against the railing, taking a swig from the bottle of wine.  She hesitated by the door.

“Waiting for something?” he called back to her.

“No.”

The way she said it made it sound like a question.

“Then, come.  Join me.  It’s beautiful out tonight.”

Her feet listened to him before she could stop them.  She went and stood next to him.  He offered her the bottle of wine and she stared at it speculatively.

“And I couldn’t bring my glass because?”

“Because we are going to be trashy and drink it straight from the bottle.  It’ll be fun.”

She rolled her eyes, but took the bottle from him.

“You’re weird,” she told him, before taking a swig.

He laughed gently.

“Thanks, princess.”

She handed the alcohol back to him, and then closed her eyes.  A warm breeze blew against her face gently.  The bustle of the city filled the night.

She lifted her head, and opened her eyes.  The sky was clear.  But too bright for her liking.

She murmured, “I miss the stars.”

“Are there stars in Michigan?”

“ _So many_ stars.  You go out back, late at night when it’s clear.  Or out on the lake in the summer.  You’d be amazed at how many stars are in the sky.”

She pressed her lips together.

She missed home.  So much.

“You’re right, though. It is beautiful tonight.”

“LA may not have stars, but we have spectacular weather.”

She smiled into the night sky, closing her eyes again.  There was quiet beat in their conversation.  An ambulance drove past.

“Are you mad at me?”

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.  Her eyes flew open.  She decided to blame the wine.

He laughed again.

“Why would you think I was mad at you?”

“This the first time you’ve talked to me in a week,” she answered honestly.

“Let’s be fair, please. You haven’t talked to me, either.”

“That’s because…”

She trailed off.

“Because?” he implored.

“Because, I don’t know.” She grabbed the bottle back, and held it by its neck in her hand.  “I guess I didn’t…I didn’t…”

“You didn’t know what to say?” he finished.

She smirked sadly.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

He sighed, took the wine and drank.

“Me either,” he admitted.

“But are you?  Mad at me?”

“What reason would I have to be mad at you?”

“I don’t know.”  She shrugged.  “It’s just…when we stopped interacting…after the conversation we had…”

She trailed off.  He was quiet.  She really wanted a drink but she was afraid to take the bottle from him. She was afraid to  _look_ at him.

The tension between them had increased exponentially, and she felt mortified and alone, standing out there on the patio with him.  She’d feared that being with him would be like this – awkward silence, tension, wanting to disappear into the floor, not knowing what to say.  Having one thousand things to say, but the thoughts and feelings are so jumbled that they can’t be articulated properly.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said quietly.  Finally. “Are you mad at me?  For making the conversation necessary?”

She shook her head.

“It wasn’t just you, Maks.”

“I know.  I know. I think that might be the worst part.”

“Are you…disappointed? In me?”

He scoffed gently.

“No.  We all like who we like and want what we want and think what we think.  And you can’t do anything about it.  You can’t change it.  You can’t get mad at someone, or be disappointed that they don’t feel a certain way.”

“What is it, then?”

He didn’t answer right away. She glanced over at him.  He stared straight ahead, out into the night.

“It makes me sad,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes. Because even though he’d been speaking of himself, it was the exact same way she’d been feeling.  Ever since he’d said her name that morning they spoke. So  _intimately._

“It makes me sad, too,” she told him.

“I’m so sorry, princess.”

“What even  _happened_?  We’ve known each other for three weeks.  We spend most of our time with other people.  How did it become…like that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “God, Meryl, it’s just –“

He stopped, putting the bottle of wine down on a small table in the corner of the patio.  He leaned back on the railing, and put his head in his hands.

“It was stupid.  It was  _so stupid_.  Iwas being so stupid, and I knew it, and I told myself that I had to stop, but I just…”

He hesitated.

“What?” she murmured into the darkness.  Encouraging him.

“I looked at you.  And I couldn’t stop  _looking at you_.”

Butterflies swarmed in her stomach.

“And you,” he continued.  “You…kind of let it happen for a little bit.  And I got my hopes up that maybe it meant something.  Maybe it was real.  But then we had our conversation.”

“Maks, I’m  _so sorry_.”

“Princess,” he said, reaching over for her hand.  “Don’t be. I told you I’m not mad or disappointed. I’m just…sad.”

She turned her head towards him.  He  _looked_ sad.  He slumped on the railing, shoulders dropped.  He had lifted his head out of his hands, but he now gazed straight ahead, his mouth turned down into a frown.  Maybe this was what she had seen earlier at the table.  Maybe she’d mistaken exhaustion for his melancholy.

She loved Charlie. She had loved Charlie for seventeen years, and she would  _always_ love Charlie, until the day she died.  But for a few moments, she let herself hate him.  For calling her.  For making him sad.  For not letting the situation play out.  Hell, maybe she and Maks would’ve gotten a  _miracle._

But now all she could do was worry about how it would end.

“It would never work. No matter how it would feel right now, it would fall apart and it would be messy and someone would get so hurt.”

“I know that, princess.”

“It’s so stupid, Maks.”

“I know.”

“We can’t.”

“I know.”

“We would lose each other.”

“It feels like we already lost each other.”

His words were a knife to her heart.  Because they were right.  They’d already drifted apart and they’d both already gotten hurt.  Before they even knew what they were doing.

“Maks, what do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

His voice sounded desperate.

“I miss you.”

Again, the words tumbled out before she could stop them.  He had the tendency to do that: to make her say things that she didn’t mean to, that she wanted to keep to herself or hide from the world.

He pushed himself off the railing and closed the space between them with one step, gathering her into his arms.  She stiffened for one second before she relaxed into him, her hands on his chest and her head over his heart.  Maybe it was the wine.  Maybe she was too tired.  Maybe it was because they were here, alone in the middle of the night, and it felt like a moment they had stolen from the world.

His voice rumbled low in his chest, against her skin.

“I miss you more.”

They stayed that way for a while, on his patio, camouflaged by darkness, enveloped by each other and the warm breeze of a spring night in Los Angeles.  Neither offered a solution to their problem; there wasn’t one, not that they saw.  Not right now.  So they let it hang, unanswered.  They swayed back and forth gently.

Eventually, he spoke.

“You should probably go home and get some sleep.  So you’re not late to practice tomorrow and Val doesn’t kill me.”

She laughed lightly.

“Val is drunk on your couch. He is also supposed to take me to the studio to pick up my car.”

“Well, that’s not happening. I’ll take you.”

And before she could even think of protesting, he had grabbed the bottle of wine and was walking inside the house.  She followed him with a sigh.

In the living room, the opening credits of the original  _King Kong_  were playing on the television screen.  Val and Jenna had fallen asleep, curled around each other.  She smiled at them.

It was cute.  She rethought her plans for teasing.

He cleaned the living room for a moment and then they were off.  The ride back to the studio was quiet, but she could feel something lingering in the air between them.  Something he wanted to say.  When they arrived, he parked his car a spot away from hers.  But she didn’t move to get out.

“Let’s be friends,” he proposed, after a few minutes of silence.

“Can we  _be_  friends?”

“Let’s try, at least.”

“We already tried.”

He exhaled loudly. She watched his grip on the steering wheel tighten.

“Well, let’s try again, then.  I don’t want to lose you.”

She didn’t answer him.

“We’re both on the same page now.  We know the other’s situation and we both want the same things.  It could work.  Maybe it would be different this time.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then we cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes.

“Just promise me you’ll try.”

She looked over at him. His gaze nearly begged her.

“Fine,” she conceded, shutting her eyes again.

“Yes.  Thank you.”

She could hear a smile in his voice.

He took her left hand and kissed it before letting it go.  They bid each other goodnight, and then she got into her car.

When she arrived home, the spot on her hand where he’d kissed her was still warm.


	7. Week 3, Pt. 2

They tried to be friends. And it  _worked_ , kind of.

They waved and said hello when they passed each other around the studio.  Maks started occasionally bothering Val again.  He would text her every once and a while, and she responded easily with a smile or a joke.

Val still didn’t talk about him, and they still didn’t hang out and grab lunch all the time like they had those first two weeks, but it was a step.  It was something, after the nothing of the past few days.  And maybe that was how the two of them would be. They would have to have the other in small doses to avoid tipping one way or another.

It was something.

Week 3 went smoothly. It was Most Memorable Year Week, so there were a lot of emotions and tears everywhere.  She and Charlie held it together, though.  Charlie’s jive about the celebration of their medal was infectious in its joy.  She couldn’t stop smiling when she watched it, or for a few minutes after it had ended. Val had choreographed an intense paso doble for her that was representative of all the hard work and dedication that she and Charlie put in over their seventeen year partnership. The judges loved it.  Len said something about it being too hectic and gave them a nine, but Carrie Ann, Bruno, and Robin Roberts were emphatic with their tens.  She was thrilled, and Val wrapped him arms around her after their dance, told her “Good job, baby,” and kissed her on the cheek.

A few minutes later she was looking down from the skybox, waiting for Amy to start her dance.  She felt someone come up beside her.  She knew without looking that it was him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello, Maks.”

“Your dance was awesome. I don’t know what Len was thinking, giving it a nine.”

“Oh well,” she breathed, turning so she faced him.  “It’s only week three.  I’ll take a thirty-nine.  I’m sure Val will continue to put together spectacular dances and we’ll get there.”

He stared down at her, hip leaning against the railing to the skybox, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah.  Val’s the creative genius of the family.”

“Hey, you’re pretty good too.  I saw pieces of your contemporary with Danica yesterday at dress rehearsal.  It looks like it will be beautiful.”

He dropped his eyes to his feet.

“Thanks.  I hope so.”

A beat passed between them. She stared at him staring at his feet.

“I should probably go find her, actually,” he mumbled.  “Danica. After Amy it’s us.”

He lifted his head, smiled at her, and then turned to walk away.

“See you around, princess.”

“Tell Danica I said good luck!” she shouted after his retreating figure.  He lifted his right hand and gave a confirmatory thumbs up.

Charlie approached her.

“Were you spying on me?” she asked.

“Yep,” he answered honestly.

She frowned, but pulled him into her arms.

“Your dance was so good! I couldn’t stop smiling!”

He laughed.

“Thanks.  So was yours.  First tens of the season!”

He released her, and they high-fived.

“So much for almost being off the podium.  You are now firmly planted atop it.”

“Coming for that mirror ball hardcore, man.”

He chuckled lowly, and then sighed.

“So what’s up with him? You’re talking again?”

“We’re friends,” she told him, a note of pride in her voice at her ability to work out their situation.

Kind of.

“Really?  How is that working?”

“I don’t know.  But for now, it’s working.  So I’m not going to question it.  I feel like I’m finally in a really good rhythm, with Val and the show and…everyone.”

“Stars on Ice is going to screw that up this week, huh?”

She groaned, and put her head in her hands.

“I don’t even want to think about it, Charlie.  I fall asleep literally the second my head hits the pillow at night.  How am I going to survive?”

“Not to mention the partner switch this week.”

She froze, head still in her hands.  She could feel the blood draining from her face.

“That’s this week?” she said into her palms.

Charlie laughed again.

“Yes!  How could you miss that one, Mer?  Everyone has been complaining about it for weeks.”

Because she had been so preoccupied with her dances and the situation with Maks that she hadn’t had time to worry about silly twists in a dancing show.

She lifted her head up and stared at Charlie.

“ _Shoot_.”

“Who do you want to get?”

_Maks_.

No.  That would be the stupidest thing of all stupid things. God,  _no_.

“I don’t know, Charlie. I haven’t thought about it at all.”

“Well, who don’t you want to get?”

_Maks_.

“I don’t know.”

Val came walking out from backstage.  He’d gone to find Jenna, the last she knew.  Meryl glared at him as he came closer.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you remind me that the switch was this week?”

He stared at her incredulously.

“You  _forgot_?”

“Yes, Val, I forgot. Why do you think I didn’t mention it?”

He shrugged.

“I thought you weren’t worried about it.”

“Wrong.”

She was worried.  So worried that she felt sick.  She could barely think about anything else, and couldn’t even watch Danica’s dance, even though she really wanted to. The rest of the show was a frenzied, colorful, tear-filled blur that flew by and slipped from her mind.  Before she knew it, she was in the parking lot, and Val was walking her to her car. She heard him ask about dinner vaguely, so she said something about the time and Stars on Ice and sore feet and bed.

When they reached the vehicle, her driver was waiting.  Val leaned against her door so she couldn’t open it.

“You’re not still nervous about the switch, are you?”

She tried to push past him.

“I’m fine, Val.”

“Meryl.”

She straightened up, and crossed her arms in front of her.

“It’s just a sucky week. With Stars on Ice starting, I’ll have to adjust to traveling and get the skating choreography down on top of the dance stuff.  And I have to do it with someone who’s not you.  I really liked the place we were in, especially this past week.”

He smiled apologetically at her.

“I know, babe.  It’s shitty.  But it’s only a week and it’s what we have to do.”

She twisted her foot on the pavement.

“Who do you think I’ll get?”

Val sighed.

“Well, you won’t get Derek. His schedule leaves him unavailable for travel this week.”

“So that leaves, who? Mark.  Tony.  Your brother.”

His frickin’ brother.

Val put his arms on her shoulders.  She stared down at her foot, still twisting on the pavement, like she was trying to dig a hole.

“Babe, look at me.”

She dragged her eyes up hesitantly.  She took in the look in his eyes and she  _knew_. She knew that they both knew who she was going to get.

“It’s going to be okay,” Val assured her.  “No matter who it is, it will be okay.  You’re too talented and hard-working for it not to be.  And we’ll talk everyday so you can tell me how it’s going.  Then next week, it’ll be us again.  It will be okay.”

She eyed him skeptically.

“Come on, say it with me.”

She rolled her eyes, but she did as he told her, and repeated “It will be okay” back to him in a soft, steady voice.  He smiled, and then pulled her into a hug, telling her that she’d meet her partner at the studio tomorrow, 7:30 sharp.  He opened her door and she got in the car, and he told her to go home and get something to eat and some sleep because tomorrow would come quickly and  _it would all be okay_.

Somehow, it would have to be okay.


	8. Week 4, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switch-Up Week, hell yah hell yah.
> 
> Love and thanks to you all, xo.

She fell asleep instantly, but her slumber was restless.  She woke up five times before her alarm rang, and the last time, she didn’t bother going back to sleep.  She crawled out of bed, and grabbed a bowl a cereal that she ate in front of the window, watching the sun rise over the city.  Then she got ready methodically, putting in a bit more effort this morning due to the prospect of being with someone new.  She gathered her things and herself, and then was off to rehearsal.

At 7:30 sharp, she was standing outside the door to an unfamiliar practice room, cameras and crew all around her.

They asked her to say something.

“I’m nervous to meet my person.”

It was the first thing she thought of.  It was boring, but it was true.  Plus, she managed to say it with a small smile on her face.  Impressive, since she felt like vomiting.

The door opened a crack. Her heart leaped.

“Whoever you are, are you excited that it’s Maks?  Knock once if yes.”

And she and Val had known.

She stopped thinking and let her body move automatically.  She went to the door and sort of knocked, more just pushed it open with her tiny body.

He stood on the other side, grinning from ear to ear.

She paused for a moment, confused.  As to why he seemed so happy to see her.  Why there was no sense of hesitation.

Then she remembered. The cameras all around them.

_Right, Davis.  Pull yourself together._

She made her expression match his and then exclaimed, “Hi!” in the cheeriest tone she could muster.

“Hello, Meryl.”

He held out his arms to her. She reminded herself that it was all for the cameras and then practically leaped into him, standing on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck.  His hands settled on her waist.

They remained like that for a few moments.  For longer than she thought necessary, but she told herself that he knew better, so she would let him end it.  

They had to fool everyone. There were cameras all around.

“You’re my partner,” he murmured, close to her ear.  And it was almost too private, almost too quiet, to be picked up by any mics or cameras. But she made herself forget, to keep her sanity.

“Almost,” she answered habitually, thinking of the first day.  The shy smile that played on her lips was genuine.

“No.”

He released her.  They stood a foot apart.  She saw the apprehension in his eyes.  While his expression may have been perfect, his eyes always seemed to betray him.

“No?” she questioned softly.

She smirked, and she felt as if she watched his trepidation melt away, leaving only softness and warmth in its wake.

“You’re really my partner,” he corrected her, and smiled like a child with a secret.

It felt like the first two weeks.  It felt like lunches with Danica and Val.  It felt like quiet mornings spent in a studio together.

It felt real.

But that was stupid. She made herself think of the cameras.

He took a few steps from her, and then stopped, turning towards her and extending his arm.

“Ready, princess?”

She placed her hand in his.

It was going to be a long week.

*             *             *

She thought dancing with him would be easy.

It was what she feared the most.  That dancing with him would be the easiest, most natural thing in the world, and then they would have to deal with the implications of that.  They would have to have another talk like that day in the studio and everything would feel worse again.

She was wrong.  So  _dead wrong_.

Dancing with him was terrible.  She had already been nervous, before they started.  Add to that the fact that his approach was so radically  _different_  than Val’s.  Val was always so prepared, detail-oriented, and explained everything to her.  He reminded her of skating coaches.

_Maks_ , on the other hand.

After the crew had filmed their meeting on Tuesday, they had moved on to someone else, saying they’d be back soon.  He had put their CD in and pressed play.  She expected him to start teaching her something.  Instead, he sat down on the floor.

She was confused, to say the least.

“Aren’t you going to show me the steps?”

He glanced up at her, his eyebrows pulled together.

“I haven’t even heard the song yet.”

She gaped at him.

And it went downhill from there.

He made up things as they went along, which was fine if it worked.  But she needed a  _plan_ , damn it.  Something to work towards.  And with the stress of chasing something that wasn’t yet, added to her pre-existing anxiety, rehearsals took a quick turn towards disaster.

She could barely pick up any steps, and those she did get he ended up changing ten minutes later because his choreography wasn’t set.  It was one of the most frustrating things  _ever_. It took them hours to plod through the smallest sections.  His patience waned quickly.

Then there was the fact that she had removed herself from the dance so drastically to prevent anything from coming of their required close proximity.  Because if she let herself be normal, she was afraid it would turn into something it couldn’t.  But the trade-off was that they look  _awkward_  moving around the floor together.  Almost clunky.

They acted when the crew was there.  And that only meant that they didn’t fight with each other.  Which lead to their rehearsals being largely silent, the two of them only speaking when he was correcting her (which was  _a lot_ ), or when she had a question that was absolutely pertinent.

The crew asked them to talk about something other than dancing.  So they allotted five minutes a day to discussing the weather, or the fact that they traveled this week for the first time, or something else inconsequential and boring.  The cameras usually left practices pretty early.

After that, all bets were off.  She was passive aggressive to a fault, and she kept waiting for him to snap at her. Hadn’t she heard horror stories about his temper?  He’d made all of his past partners cry?  She wanted to see him  _try_  with her.

He held it together, though, and instead made snarky, unnecessary comments about her dancing and the mess that was this week.  Every time he did, he stared at her with a wicked glint in his eyes.  He was egging her on, trying to get her to be the one to blow up at him.  Although ninety percent of the time she really wanted to, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

The two didn’t see each other outside the studio.  Not that they really had time.  She was always either practicing, eating, or sleeping.  Thankfully, their rehearsals were cut short because of the extra preparation she needed for Stars on Ice.  She had her meals with either Charlie or one of the other skaters. Whenever someone asked how it was going with Maks, she told them it was fine, a smile on her face, and she was pretty sure they believed her for the most part.

When anyone asked _where_  her elusive partner was, she answered with an honest “I don’t know.”  People only looked confused for a moment before they let it go and moved on.

(She left off the part where she didn’t care where he was, and she hoped that he would stay there and not come back.)

She texted Val every night instead of calling him, afraid that her voice would betray her and Maks’ predicament.  She told Val to do the same if he wanted to talk, making up the excuse that skating had her extra busy, and she would be better able to return texts.  Val’s messages got more anxious by the day. She sat in a hotel room Thursday night, book in hand, trying to read, but mostly stewing over angry thoughts about Maks.  Her phone buzzed.

_Val:  How bad is it?  Be honest, I need to know._

It was the first time Val had directly implied that things weren’t going well between her and his brother, instead of dancing around everything.  She glared at the screen of her phone.  If Maks told him anything, she was going to kill him in the morning.

_Meryl:  It’s fine. Why, did he say it wasn’t going well?_

_Val:  No, he also told me it was fine.  But he sounded like he was about to explode._

_Meryl: It’s fine.  Maybe he had a bad night._

_Val: Did you see him this evening?_

_Meryl: No._

_Val: Do you ever see each other outside of rehearsal?_

_Meryl: Um._

_Val:  I’m putting myself on the first plane out of LAX tomorrow.  Where’s your show again?_

_Meryl:  Don’t be an idiot.  It’s fine. Only a few more days, I’ll survive. I’m going to sleep.  Talk to you tomorrow._

_Val:  How many times have you honestly thought about stabbing him?  You can tell me._

_Meryl:  Goodnight Val._

_Val: I’ll take that as many times._

_Meryl:  GOODNIGHT VAL._

They had tango.  And it was going to be the most embarrassing thing she’d ever done in front of an audience.  Charlie falling four times at Cup of Russia was a  _masterpiece_  compared to this.  It was Scheherazade compared to this tango.

She was terrified.


	9. Week 4, Pt. 2

##  **Chapter 9 - _Week 4, Pt. 2_**

When they got to rehearsals on Friday morning, they had only gotten through one-third of their routine. And it was rough, to say the least. The two of them had today and then a few hours tomorrow, before he had to go back to LA for camera blocking.

They needed something to perform on Monday, so she came into practice fully prepared to shut up and take his crap for the sake of the dance, and just do the best she could with what he was giving her.  But he was rude to her immediately.  He didn’t even wait for the cameras to leave like he normally did.  So that plan flew out the window.

They were in the middle of dancing when he said something mean, and it was the last straw.  She broke hold and walked away from him.

“What the fuck?” he questioned

“You’re being a douchebag. Get over yourself.”

She stood across the room from him, hands on her hips.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a crew member smile.  They had been waiting for something exciting all week.

So they would get the “Wow, these two people hate each other, this was the worst partnership in the history of partnerships” edit.  She didn’t care.  It was kind of true.  And she was so over him and his bullshit.

She waited for and fully expected him to scream at her.  She readied herself.

He surprised her, though.

His face fell, and then he exhaled, extending his arms towards her.

“Come here, please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because we have a dance to perform in three days and we’re not even through half of it.  Come on, let’s run it again.”

She eyed him cautiously.

“Sorry.  I’ll be nicer.  Just…please, babe.”

She rolled her eyes, but walked over to him, muttering “Don’t call me babe,” under her breath.

They ran the steps again. They suffered from the same gracelessness as always.  She waited to hear his comments, but he was silent.  He had something to say.  She could tell by the look on his face, like he was deciding how to put so he could keep his promise of being nicer.  He kept her in hold, but stared past her, his eyes far away.  She looked up at him, waited for him to say his piece.

“Out with it already,” she said, after a few more long moments of silence.

He sighed gently.

“Meryl.”

He said it like he used to. Her heart jumped.

“What?”

“I need you to stop thinking about your feet so much, and I need you to think about me.”

But she couldn’t  _do that_.  He knew that.  She moved her head to stare over his shoulder, like she was supposed to when they were dancing.

“I have to think about my feet that much.  If I don’t, I won’t get the steps perfectly.”

“Forget about that. The miniscule details of your footwork aren’t important.”

“Blasphemy.  Wait until I talk to Val tonight.”

She glanced at him.  The smallest ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

“You see, the actually mechanics of your steps are  _good_. It’s the execution that’s lacking. The moves are right.   _This_ ,” he said, squeezing her closer to him for a moment.  “This is wrong.”

She didn’t have anything to say.  She couldn’t disagree with him; he’d hit the nail on the head.  Tackled the elephant in the room.

“The steps will come,” he continued.  “If we can fix it a little, the steps  _will_ come.  You just have to let me _lead_  you.  That’s my job.  I feel like you’re trying to do this dance by yourself.  It looks like two people trying to do different solos smashed up against one another.  You don’t have to do it alone.  Let me lead you.  Let me help you.”

He brought his gaze down to lock with hers.  His eyes were soft again.  They hadn’t been the past few days, and it had bothered her endlessly.  At times, more than his standoffish attitude. Because his eyes had been one of the first things she picked out about him the first day.  One of the earliest things she knew about him.  And then they were gone, and he was being mean, and she hated this and wanted to go home.

But they were back.

“I need you to think about me.  I need you to trust me, princess.”

Her stomach flipped. She was suddenly hyper-aware of him – of every plane of his body pressed against hers, their clasped hands, and his fingertips resting on the small of her back.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asked him.

“We’ll never know unless we try.  So let’s try, huh?”

She just stared at him, beginning to chew on her bottom lip.

“Trust me, princess,” he repeated.

It was stupid.  She told herself it was for the sake of the dance, and her sanity, and to save her from having to humiliate herself in front of a national audience in three days.

But it was so stupid.

She whispered, “Okay.”

*             *             *

It worked.

Dance  _flowed_ out of them after that.  After she started paying attention to him, burying her reservations and just being with him in those moments, dancing with him was wonderful. It was easy.  It was the most natural thing in the world.

He scrapped the entire routine and they started from scratch, but it worked because a million potential steps came to his mind every minute.  And he somehow organized them and strung them together seamlessly and gracefully.

He was inspired, to say the least.  They had a finished, ready-to-perform routine in two hours.  After that, they ran it again and again, focusing on the intricacies that she had been so worried about, plus some new ones that she didn’t even think to consider.  Their tango was so stunning that it took her breath away.  Judging from some of the shocked faces she saw from the crew (who had stayed the entire rehearsal today), they felt the same.

For the first time that week, she was deflated when it was time for her to go skate.  She wanted to run their tango again and again and again.

She never wanted to stop dancing with him.

He walked her to her car, his hand on her back, leading her.

“I told you it would work,” he told her.

She just smiled.

“Val’s thing is details. He gets too hung up in them sometimes. I like to tell stories.  I like emotions.  People remember those more.  Years from now, people won’t be talking about your footwork if you made them feel something extraordinary.  If there’s an emotional connection, the footwork doesn’t necessarily have to be more than perfect.  I mean, yours is, so that’s a plus.  But this,” he said as they reached the car, using his finger to motion between the two of them.  “If this is perfect, everything else falls into place.”

“It’s easier said than done, sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, looking down at the pavement.

“It can be scary.”

He put two fingers under her chin, lifted her face.

“Are you scared?” he murmured.

_Yes_.

“No,” she answered, looking him straight in the eyes.  “You are, though.  I think that’s been your problem all week.”

“Scared of what?”

His fingers were still under her chin.

“I don’t know.  I wish I knew.”

“I’m terrified.  I’m not scared.”

“Of what?”

He held her for a moment longer, let his eyes drift to her lips before her let go, and took a step away from her.

“I don’t want to let Val down.”

He was lying.  She knew it, and he did too, judging by the way he lifted his eyes and looked past her as he spoke.

He smiled then, and brought his gaze back to her.

“We’ll meet tomorrow and practice some more, and then I have to fly back for camera blocking.  Have fun skating.  Tell Charles I say hello.”

She told him she would, and then bid him goodbye, getting in her car.  She caught a glimpse of him in her rearview mirror as she drove away, standing on the sidewalk, watching her go.

The show went well. The group numbers could’ve been a little cleaner, but it was the first week and that was to be expected. Skating with Charlie was as easy and wonderful as it always was.  She passed along Maks’ greeting; Charlie had tried to mask his surprise, and failed spectacularly.

Afterwards, she was eating a Nutrigrain bar and flipping the channels on her hotel television.  Her phone vibrated.

_Val: How’d it go today?  Is there a dance?  Are both parties still alive?_

_Meryl:  It was fine._

For the first time, she wasn’t lying to him.  They were alive, there was a dance, and it was fine.  It was  _more_ than fine; it was  _spectacular_ , but she wanted to surprise him on Monday.

_Val: I don’t believe it._

_Meryl: I’m telling the truth.  It’s fine._

_Val: It better be or I’m gonna kill him._

_Meryl: Stop being dramatic._

She settled on a show about baby animals, but as soon as she was done eating, she began to doze.  So she got up and brushed her teeth, turning off the lights and the television.  She had just put her head down on the pillow when her phone vibrated again.  She groaned as she felt around on the nightstand for it – she was going to punch Val when she got back.

But it wasn’t him.

_Maks: You and Charlie skating together is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._

It felt like her heart had leaped into her throat.  He had been at the show?

_Meryl:  Aw, thanks. You came to SOI tonight?  Why didn’t you tell me?_

_Maks: It was a last minute thing, and I didn’t want to make you nervous ;)_

_Meryl: Hahahaha.  It’s the first week, so some spots were still kinda rough, but they’ll get there.  I’m glad you could make it!_

_Maks:  Nonsense, it was spectacular._

_Meryl:  Thank you! I’ll have to tell everyone you said so, they’ll be excited haha.   Goodnight!_

_Maks: Goodnight, see you in the morning._

She laid her phone next to her in the bed, and closed her eyes.  Her stomach fluttered at the fact that he had been at her show and watched her skate and described it as “spectacular”, and “the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen”.  It’s all she could think about as she began to drift.  Right when she was on the edge of sleep, her phone vibrated again.

_Maks: Our tango is perfect._

_Meryl:_ _:)_

She could hardly wait until Monday night.


	10. Week 4, Pt. 3

##  **Chapter 10 - _Week 4, Pt. 3_**

Her and Charlie’s flight was delayed on their way back from their shows in Florida, and by the time they arrived at dress rehearsal, everyone was busy elsewhere except Erin, Maks, and Peta, Charlie’s partner for the switch.  She was immediately swept up and put in some makeshift version of her costume.

Charlie and Peta were up first; the producers had put her and Maks last in the show, which meant they either thought it was going to be outstanding or a total disaster.  She wondered what their package would be like, as she stood backstage, going over steps alone.  Maks leaned against a wall, arms crossed in front of him, watching her.

“There is such a thing as over-practicing, you know.”

“We only finished this dance on Friday.  And I like to feel prepared.”

He hummed, keeping his eyes on her.  A few minutes later, they were called to the floor.

Their tango went smoothly.  It wasn’t as great as it could have been; she didn’t think about him enough.  There were a million things on her mind and she was jetlagged and so  _hungry_. Tonight, she was confident it would be flawless.  She was slightly more nervous about the opening group number, but Maks assured her it was simple, that she just had to come down the steps and go through the crowd and Val would walk her through it.

They had an insanely short amount of time to find something to eat before they had to start getting ready for the show.  They could’ve grabbed some catered food that ABC provided, but it was cold by now and she didn’t want to be stuck here for the rest of the day.  He agreed.  They got into his car and he drove her around for five minutes before pulling into an In-N-Out parking lot.

She made a face.

“Hey,” he said, “it has to be quick.  If we’re late getting back, everyone will kill us.  Plus, don’t even try and tell me you don’t love their burgers.”

Her stomach growled, loud enough for him to hear it.  He smiled, and then opened the door and got out, throwing a soft  _‘Let’s go, princess’_ in her direction.

She had a burger, fries,  _and_ a milkshake.  Though unhealthy, and probably not the best preshow meal, it was  _delicious_ , and she scarfed it down, as he sat across from her with an amused smirk on his face, nibbling on his food.  Afterwards, she was sure she wasn’t going to feel like eating for another three days.

They tried to be quick with their meal, but they were late anyways.  No one actually killed them, but a few looked like they wanted to. Especially her hair stylist.  She ignored most of her comments, but heard one about  _‘pink streaks taking longer than people think they do’._

She couldn’t hide her smile when she looked at herself in the mirror after everyone had finished working on her.  She absolutely  _loved_  the costume Maks had put together.  It was sleek, sexy, revealing without being trashy, practical (it had  _pants_ ) without being frumpy.  Maks walked up behind her, and she told him how much she adored it.  He twirled her around, and then pulled her to his side, and they took in their reflection in the mirror.

They looked  _good_ together.  It was stupid, but that feeling had started to fade again, like it had in the beginning.

The show went fine, for the most part.  The judges were really hard on Charlie and Peta.  They tried to hide it, but she saw telling signs of how upset and disappointed Charlie was on his face.  Her heart broke for them.

Val swept her up in his arms after he finished his dance with Danica, kissing her on the cheek.

“I’m so nervous about your dance, I’ve nearly cried a few times,” he whispered.  “I’ve lost sleep over it.”

She snorted.

“Poor guy.  I cause you so much stress.”

“You have no idea.”

She patted his shoulder.

“Well, I hope you like it.”

Near the end of the night, Meryl and Maks stood next to each other on stage.  They were just about to come back from a commercial break, and then it would be time for them to dance.  She glanced over at him.  He had been quiet for most of the show.  Not like he had been after their conversation that one morning, when he avoided her. He seemed pensive, almost.  It was a striking contrast to her excitement. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but she was almost afraid of what his answer would be.

Music started, and the show was back.  Tom said something about them she couldn’t quite make out, and then their faces flashed on the screen as their package started.  He reached over and took her hand.  He was nervous, as was she.  They could really turn this into something shitty if they wanted to.  They had provided enough unflattering material.

They started with their hug when they found out they were together, when they embraced each other (for a moment too long, just as she had thought.  She could practically hear speculation brewing in the silence of the audience).  When he had whispered to her that they really were partners now.

The bad clips started immediately after that.  Her not getting steps, him getting frustrated, her questioning his teaching methods, him making snide remarks, her trying to ignore them but getting pissed off anyway.

She stared at the screen in horror – she knew they had been that way when the crew had left, but she underestimated their visible ire for each other when others were present. They didn’t have as much self-control as she believed.

She was embarrassed, to say the least.  And annoyed, even though she had suspected that they might work this angle.  They had so much  _good stuff_  from the end of the week.

She made the mistake of glancing up into the skybox.  Everyone seemed to either look nervous or slightly amused.  Val’s head was in his hands.  Suddenly, she was terrified that this was going to be a mess and she would dissatisfy him.

She looked at Maks, whose thumb had begun to run gentle circles on the back of her hand.  Whether it was due to his nervousness, or if he could sense her growing anxiety, she didn’t know.  His lips were pressed into a hard line, though, and he stared straight ahead.

She took a deep breath, and went back to watching the package.  They had gotten to the climax of their struggle, and she could feel herself begin to blush as she watched herself, standing across the studio from him with her hands on her hips.

Suddenly, sweet piano music began to play.  He was holding her to him on screen.

_“I need you to stop thinking about your feet so much, and I need you to think about me.”_

She could hear a good portion of the audience aww.  And her heart dropped.

If the producers couldn’t make them enemies, it seemed that they would make them lovers instead.

It was funny how when she could see the two of them through the eyes of others, it was easy to see how stupid it all was.  When they were alone, it didn’t seem stupid.  Or maybe he just made her forget that it was.  Just like he made her forget about being homesick.

Whatever it was, she saw it now, watching them create their dance in the package.  She felt mortified, and didn’t dare look up at the skybox again, fearing she would catch Charlie or Val’s eyes and everything would come crashing down on her, the dream that the past few days had been shattered.

She wanted to push these thoughts away, but it was nearly impossible.  This dance that they were about to do was about to cement them in the minds of everyone else, and she couldn’t just ignore them, because she would have to deal with them head-on as soon as they had finished.  It scared her.  She barely knew what was happening.  How was she supposed to explain it to others?

She began contemplating the fact that maybe it was better to do a robotic, disconnected dance and get poor scores, than to put herself out there in this way, when she felt a tug on her hand.

She turned her head to see him looking at her.  She had been lost in the world of her own thoughts, and hadn’t noticed when he stopped watching their package and focused his attention on her.  She kept her face straight, trying to hide her inner turmoil from him.

He saw through her mask immediately.

“Stop.”

“But,  _Maks_.”

_This is stupid_ , is how she wanted to finish her statement. His eyes stopped her.

“I know.  But that’s not important right now.  Don’t think about it.  It doesn’t matter.”

He led her back a few feet, so they could get into the starting positions for their dance.  He had to let go of her hand for the beginning of the number.  Ironically, he had to grab it again just a few bars later; they began their dance by taking each other’s hands, ended it by letting go.  He told her it was supposed to symbolize their brief partnership, their coming together and drifting apart.  She accepted this explanation because it was easy and it made logical sense and she buried any other thoughts she had about it.

_“What if it doesn’t work?”_

_“We’ll never know unless we try.  So let’s try, huh?…Trust me, princess.”_

_“Okay.”_

That’s how their package ended, leaving it ambiguous as to whether they would be stupendous together or catastrophic. As everyone clapped, he grabbed her hand once again, pulling her towards him.

“You and me,” he told her, gazing into her eyes.

She swallowed, trying to slow her heartbeat.

“That’s it,” she murmured.

“That’s it,” he parroted quietly.

She let go of him, took one step over to her spot.  The emcee was announcing their names.

“Trust me, princess,” she faintly heard him say.

She did.  For some stupid reason, she did.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again.

The first notes of their song drifted through the ballroom.


	11. Week 4, Pt. 4 {i feel so close to you right now}

##  **Chapter 11 - _Week 4, Pt. 4  
_** ** _{i feel so close to you right now}_**

Dancing with him felt like dreaming.  

It felt like having a  _good_ dream, about someone you love.  As it is with most dreams, you’re not quite sure where you are or when you are or why you are.  The background is hazy.  But that person, the one you love, stands right there with you.  So clear, so unmistakable.  And everything you feel is so pronounced and genuine that you could easily be awake, if it weren’t for the fact that you were sleeping.

And when you open your eyes, there’s a slight smile on your face.

This is what dancing with him felt like for her.

He told her to think about him, and she did.  She only thought about him, because it was the only way to stop from worrying about everything that would happen after they were done.  But after they were done seemed so far down the road.  It felt like two lifetimes from now.

At that moment, she and he and the music were the only things that existed.

He was the only thing that possessed her mind.

She didn’t need to worry about the steps.  They came to her like they were second-nature.  She moved with him, let him lead her across the floor, and it felt like skydiving and breathing all at the same time.

But then, two lifetimes passed before she could blink, and he let her hand go.  She walked forward, and felt lost for a split second before she remembered where they were.  That they were on a television show.  She heard the roar of the audience in a gradual crescendo, as if her head had just been pulled up from underwater and there was still liquid in her ears.

She smiled slightly.

Then two arms were turning her and wrapping around her and then her feet weren’t touching the ground and he was moving them across the floor.  She ran her fingernails over his back as he murmured sweet things to her.

“That was perfect. That was beyond anything I ever fathomed it would be.  That was the best thing I’ve ever done on this show.  You’re brilliant.  You’re  _perfect_.  Thank you for giving me that.  Thank you. Thank you so much, baby.”

She ran her fingernails over his back again and again.

They got to the judges’ table and he set her down, wrapping an arm around her waist.  Tom complimented them.  The room was still cheering.  She felt Maks press his lips into her hair.

She couldn’t stop smiling.

The judges  _raved_.  Len called it special.  Julianne Hough said she wanted to dance like her.  Bruno spouted out a confusing metaphor and waved his arms around.  Carrie Ann had tears in her eyes and called their partnership magical, calling it Maks’ best choreography ever.

When they walked up to the skybox, she registered the awed faces of all the other contestants with the small part of her brain that managed to pull itself away from the sensation on his hand wrapped around her hipbone.  Everyone stared at them like they had just teleported down from another planet.

Val wrapped his arms around her before Erin interviewed them, kissing her on her hairline, and then moving his lips to her ear and whispering, “Holy shit.”

Maks, who hadn’t let her go since they hugged after their dance, pulled her away from his brother and towards Erin.  That interview passed in a blur.  They got all tens, the first perfect score of the season.  The press line was much like their interview with Erin; it was foggy, and she barely registered half of it.  She talked a lot about adjusting and new partners and new schedules and stress and being proud of their dance.  Maks fielded any intrusive question that she was uncomfortable with, giving long, rambling answers that got so far away from the gist of the queries that by the time he shut up, the interviewers barely remembered what they had asked.  Neither of them offered any reminders.

They evaded and avoided expertly.  After they were done, he led her back to her trailer, stopping in front of the door.

He still hadn’t let go of her.

What did they do now?

“I’ll be…”

She trailed off.  She had no idea how to finish that sentence. I’ll be ready in five minutes? I’ll be seeing you?  Tonight?  Tomorrow? Three weeks from now?  Never again?  I’ll be leaving now, thanks for the perfect score?

“Get changed,” he told her, and then pulled away from her, walking in the direction of his trailer.

She paused for a moment to watch him leave.  Without him by her side, she felt cold.  She jogged up the steps and opened the door, her mind reeling because she still didn’t know what his statement meant.  Would she see him again tonight?  Would they go back to how they were before this week, skirting around each other as awkward almost-friends who could be more, if they let themselves go, but couldn’t because more would be impossible?

She had no clue.  She tried to picture it going both ways, as she changed into yoga pants and a tank top, wiping off the stage makeup caked on her skin and putting on something fresher and more natural.  She studied her intricate hairdo, and decided to leave it in. It was the last visible remnant of their tango.  She feared that if she took it out, somehow the dance would go away.  It had felt so much like dreaming.  She couldn’t be sure it was entirely real.  She left her curls and pink streaks alone, letting them reassure her it was.

She gathered up her things and threw them in her gym bag, pausing to glance at herself in the mirror once more.  She felt unsteady.  Uncertain. And she could see it in the brightness of her eyes as she stared at her reflection.

She took a deep breath, and then walked to the door of the trailer.  She turned the knob.

He was standing there at the bottom of the stairs, in a white tank top and black sweatpants, bag slung over his shoulder, his hair still slicked down from their dance.  He was fiddling with his phone, but looked up when he heard the door open.

His eyes moved down her body, and then back up again.

She gulped.

He was frozen for a moment, but then he put his phone in his pocket, holding his hand out and helping her down the few stairs.  When her feet touched the ground, he pulled her towards him, letting their clasped hands hang between them.

They were silent for a moment.  She could feel his quickened pulse beat against her wrist.

He was nervous; she was too. She wanted to tell him so, but she didn’t know how.

Finally, he spoke.

“Do you want to come with me?”

His voice was deep, low, husky.  It made the best kind of goosebumps raise on her skin.

She looked up at him. He was staring down at her like she was the only thing in the world.

She was dangling one foot over the cliff, and she peered over the edge.  She couldn’t see the bottom.  If she jumped, she didn’t know where she would fall.

She should’ve stepped back. It was stupid not to step back.

“Yes,” she murmured.

The corner of his mouth twitched.  He grabbed her bag from her, and then intertwined their fingers, as he moved to lead her towards the parking lot.

She was stupid.  He was stupid.  They were stupid together.

It might have been the stupidest thing she had ever done.

(For a moment, she let herself stop caring.)


	12. Week 4, Pt. 5 {it's a force field}

##  **Chapter 12 - _Week 4, Pt. 5_  
** ** _{it’s a force field}_**

“Are you hungry?”

They were at the edge of the parking lot.  They had gathered themselves rather quickly, and they seemed to be the first ones to leave, the spaces filled with cars, but no people in sight, save for the drivers sitting and waiting for their assigned contestant.

She wanted to tell him no. But as soon as she opened her mouth to say it, her stomach protested with a low growl.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Do you want to go get dinner with everyone else?”

His tone was casual as he asked her, but his body betrayed him.  She felt his fingers tense infinitesimally around hers.  She looked up at him.  The lot was dark, the only light coming from the occasional passing pair of headlights and a single streetlamp in the far right corner.  It was just enough bright enough for her to make out his face.  His forehead was scrunched, his lips turned down.

“No,” she whispered to him. His expression relaxed, and he ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

They were at his car now. He opened the back door and tossed in both of their bags, and then opened up the passenger door.  She hesitated.

“What’s wrong, princess?”

“Nothing.  Nothing, I just…”

She glanced over her shoulder, towards the row of drivers.

“I should probably go tell my driver he can go home.”

She dropped his hand, and told him to stay there.  He mumbled something about not moving to save his life as she jogged towards the drivers. She shot a passing glance in each window until she found hers, looking down at his phone.  She walked up to the window and knocked.

He looked up from the screen on his phone, rolling the window down slowly.

“Good evening, Miss Davis. Ready to head out?”

“Hello, George.”  

She made herself smile.

“Actually, I just came to tell you that I wouldn’t be needing you tonight.  A friend is going to drive me home.”

She tried to tell him this casually, but her heart drummed in her chest and she was sure that her voice broke on the word ‘home’.

But George didn’t seem to make anything of it.

“Okay.  I’ll pick you up to go to the airport on Wednesday, then. Have a nice evening.”

He rolled his window up and turned on the car, backing out slowly.  She gave him a tiny wave as she watched him pull out, then ran back over to Maks.  He was leaning against the car.  He opened up her door again when he saw her.

“You could’ve gotten in, you know.”

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

“You don’t have to open my door,” she mumbled as she got into the vehicle.

“I’m being gentlemanly,” he said as he closed her door and walked quickly over to his side, getting in and starting the car.  She smirked at him.

“Gentlemanly, huh?”

“I figured if I’m going to woo you, I’d better start by being polite.  Especially after the foot we got off on at the beginning of the week.”

He looked over his shoulder and began to back the car out of the space.  She looked down, picked at an imaginary fuzz on her shirt.

“Is that what you’re trying to do?  Woo me?”

As if he would have to try. He wooed her merely by existing.

She heard him sigh.

“I don’t know. Maybe.  Do you want me to woo you?”

“I don’t know.”  

She looked up, saw the blur of passing cars’ headlights as he pulled onto the highway.

“We still don’t know much of anything, do we, Maks?”

“We’ll figure it out, princess.”

They rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence, despite the somewhat tense atmosphere inside the car.  It wasn’t a bad tension, necessarily.  It was simply a result of the energy that existed between them, which had been born that first day on Good Morning America.  There was something there, and she had tried to put an end to it, futilely, after that conversation with Charlie.  But it wasn’t something that could be ended.  Neither of them had created it.  It simply  _was_. Had always been, since the first time she saw him.

And it couldn’t even be ignored anymore.  The two of them had brought it to the forefront with that dance, solidified it in the minds of millions, including their own.  It had to be addressed.  Decided. She felt like they were balancing on a pinpoint, and tonight they would fall one way or the other.

It would either fade away to nothing or consume everything she was.  Sitting there in his car, she still had no idea how it would turn out. Wasn’t sure how she wanted it to, deep down, if she considered all things.

She closed her eyes, and tried to make herself stop thinking about it.  When she opened them again, she looked out the window as the city passed by them.  It was dark, and she didn’t know LA well enough to be able to discern where they were. She wondered passingly if he would take her to In-N-Out again.

They only drove a few more minutes, before the car slowed and he pulled over, putting the car in park. She examined their surroundings as he grabbed their bags from the backseat and got out of the car.

They were at his condo.

Her stomach did somersaults, and she remained in her seat, frozen and staring.  She was nervous.  She knew, logically, that she shouldn’t have been.  She’d been here before, and she knew that he hadn’t brought her here for  _that_.  Not with the current state of their relationship.  Not tonight.

But, still.

She had gone home with him.

He opened her door.

“Meryl?”

His voice thawed her. She turned her head and saw him bent over, peering at her.

“Are you coming?”

She glanced at the condo, and then at him again.

“Won’t Val be coming home soon?”

“No.  He and Jenna are staying somewhere tonight.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Oh?  Does that happen often?”

He grinned.

“Increasingly often.”

He reached out his hand to her.  She stared at it for just a moment, and then took it as she got out of the car.  He closed the door behind him with his foot, and then dropped her hand and placed his on the small of her back, leading her to the front door.  Once inside, he walked with her to the kitchen, dropping the bags on the floor and flipping on a light.  She sat on a barstool at the counter.

He walked over to the refrigerator, opening the door.

“So,” he began.  “What can I give you?  I’ve been gone for a week so I don’t really know what’s here. We have…um, seemingly not much. Val sucks at food.  When I leave everything goes to shit.  This is,” he paused, picking up a container and opening the lid.  He made a face and put it back.  

“This is Val’s leftover takeout.  You don’t want that.”

She smiled, and he sorted through a few more containers.

“A lot of these seem to be Val’s leftover takeout.  Probably no one should eat those.”

He sighed, standing up straight and gazing into the fridge.

“Fuck, I need to go shopping.  Sorry.”

She laughed, and spied a loaf of bread sitting next to the fridge.

“Do you have jelly?” she asked him.

He rummaged through the shelves on the door, finally grabbing a jar.

“Aha!  Yes.”

“Peanut butter?”

“I  _know_  we have that,” he told her, closing the fridge and opening up a cabinet, getting it out.  “Val can’t stand peanut butter.  When I’m not here, no one eats it.”

He grabbed the loaf of bread and gathered the two jars in his arms, moving over next to her and putting the ingredients on the counter.  He opened a drawer and pulled out a butter knife.

“Peanut butter and jelly, princess?”

He turned his head and smirked at her.

“Sounds delicious,” she responded.  “I feel like I’m five again.  At least it’s food.”

“I am sorry about that. I thought we had more food.  I didn’t want to take you In-N-Out again. And I didn’t want to waste time in an actual restaurant.”

“Waste time?  Do you have something planned?”

He laughed, and passed her the finished sandwich.  She picked it up and took a bite.

“Holy frick, Maks. This is actually really good.”

“You’re just half-starved. I could’ve opened you a can of cat food, or given you Val’s stinky takeout, and you would’ve loved it.”

She shrugged. Maybe.  Whatever the reason, she was genuinely loving this sandwich.

She ate, and he walked over to the other side of the kitchen, putting the food away.  He washed the knife in the sink quickly and then turned towards her.  He leaned against the refrigerator door, biting his lip and staring at her with a look in his eyes that underlined her ever-present nervousness about this night.

She let a few moments pass before she questioned him.

“What?” she tried to say, around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly.

He smiled widely, and then shook his head.

“Nothing.  You’re just cute, is all.”

She ignored the butterflies in her stomach and answered with a quick thank you.  She tried to go back to eating her sandwich, and stared down as she swung her legs back and forth.  But she could still feel his gaze on her.  She lifted her head.  He was still looking at her that same way, still biting his damn lip.  It was disorienting, frankly.  He was acting like he wanted to eat  _her_  for dinner, and he looked distractingly attractive doing so, in his sweats, with his hair still slicked down.

She pretended to ignore it until she finished her sandwich.  She chewed her last bite, and then looked him directly in the eyes as she licked two of her fingers that had a bit of jelly on them.  She could see him gulp.

She felt oddly triumphant as she took in his reaction.  Two could play at this game.

“Are you going to leave your hair up like that?”

Her brow furrowed. She hadn’t expected this question.

“I was going to. Why?  Do you like it better down?”

“Yes.”

She also wasn’t expecting his response, as quick and blunt as it was.  It made  _her_  gulp.  She tried to tell herself it was stupid, because it didn’t matter if he had a preference for her hairstyle.  He liked her hair better down, moving on, who cares?  So what, so what, so what?

But it was the way he had  _said_  it, so unabashedly, all while still staring at her that same way.

“I’ll take it out, then,” she whispered.

She reached up to her hair and started searching around for bobby pins.  Half of the updo was a hairpiece, the other half was hers.  She couldn’t tell what was which, but she would figure it out as she went along.

Suddenly, he pushed himself off the refrigerator, and  _stalked_ over to her.  Same glint in his eyes, still biting his lip.  She wished he would stop that, because it was becoming the only thing she could focus on and she was staring at his mouth too much.

He stopped right in front of her, and she froze with a bobby pin half-pulled out of her hair.  He took her hand and helped her finish removing the pin, and then grabbed her shoulders and gently turned her around on the stool so her back was facing him.  Gingerly, he placed his hands on her head.

“Can I do this?” he inquired.

She tried to hide the way her breath faltered.

“I mean, if you want.”

Her voiced cracked, betraying her cool demeanor.  She exhaled shakily, and he turned her back around, running his hand down the side of her face.

“It’s okay, princess. Everything’s going to be okay.”

And she believed him.

He smiled softly, and she returned it, before he turned her again, and began to pick bobby pins out of her hair.

She closed her eyes, and focused on the feeling of his hands on her scalp, the way her soft hair would fall against her shoulders as he freed it from its pin, the way his fingertips would trail the length of the strands, smoothing them.

The activity was so innocent, and yet felt so  _sensual_ , as she felt his eyes burning into the back of her head, and the way his body would brush against hers as he shifted.  She imagined the expression on his face, the way he was biting his lip earlier, and she shivered.

“There,” he whispered, as he freed the last pin.  “All done.”

He moved to take his hands from her, but she reached around and grabbed his fingers.  Every time they touched, it was like a shock of electricity passed through them, their atoms crackling and popping together.

He hadn’t expected her movement, and inhaled sharply.  She grinned.

“Not quite done.  You have to brush it,” she explained.

There was a quiet moment, and then she felt his lips at her ear.

“Where’s your brush?”

She felt his warm breath against her skin, and goosebumps rose all over her body.

“Gym bag,” she managed to choke out.  “On top.”

He walked away, and she instantly felt colder, despite the warm LA night.  She heard the zipper on her gym bag, and then he was back, and began to run the brush through her locks.

She started to count his strokes, to keep her sanity.  When he got to one hundred, she felt him lift the brush from her head, and plop it down on the countertop.

“Done?”

“Done,” she confirmed. She felt a gentle pressure against the back of her skull before he turned her around.

He still had a small smile playing on his lips, and she watched his eyes flick back and forth between her face and down before he reached out, and grabbed one of her hands out of her lap.  He hesitated, looking at her, making eye contact before intertwining them.

She swallowed, staring down at their clasped hands, wiggling her fingers.

“Everything’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

She stood up, lining her toes up with his, and lifted her chin, gazing at him earnestly.

“ _Promise_  me.”

“I promise,” he answered, never breaking his eyes from hers.

And she believed him.

“Come,” he said, grabbing his keys off the counter and tugging on her arm, leading her towards the door.  “There’s some place I want to show you.”

She followed him, hand still in his.

It was stupid.

But she believed him.


	13. Week 4, Pt. 6 {and there's no stopping us right now}

##  **Chapter 13 - _Week 4, Pt. 6  
_** ** _{and there’s no stopping us right now}_**

She didn’t ask him where they were going because she knew he wouldn’t tell her, and because she felt like trusting him, content to let him take the lead and relieve pressure off of her. She watched headlights pass on the highway and reveled in the feeling of his hand still holding hers on the center console until she began to drift.

She was awakened by his gentle shake of her shoulder and squeeze of her hand.  She opened her eyes to see his face a foot from hers, affectionate smirk playing on his lips.

“Meryl,” he murmured.

It sounded so much like that way he had said it the morning in rehearsal when she had broken both their hearts. Except now it was optimistic and it warmed her so much she could’ve cried.

A quick glance at the dashboard clock told her she’d been asleep for about an hour.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

His smile grew.

“We’re having a late night. I’m hoping if you nap a bit, you’ll be able to function at rehearsal and Val won’t kill me.”

They both laughed, and then he reached over her and opened the passenger door.  As soon as he did, she could hear the soothing roar of ocean waves.

“You brought me to the beach?” she dared to ask, confused, but pleased.

“You’ll see,” he assured her, and then got out of the car.  She followed him, and got out to find themselves in a small, empty parking lot. She heard the bang of the trunk closing him, and then he walked up next to her, holding a quilt, and took her hand.

The silence that enveloped them as he led her to the shore and spread out their quilt on the sand was comfortable.  Every so often, he would catch her eye and smile, and she would smile back.  They simply didn’t have anything to say.  They were enjoying every moment, and that was okay.

He sat down and smoothed out their blanket, and then invited her down, patting the spot between his legs.

She felt nervousness begin to creep up inside her again.  He seemed to sense it.

“Not bowing out on me now, are you, princess?”

She bit her lip.  He sat up straight, grabbing one of her hands once more, and tugging gently.

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

And then her anxiety was gone.

She bit her lip as she crouched down and settled against him, taking initiative and wrapping both of his arms around her, intertwining both of their hands together on her stomach. She felt gentle pressure on the back of her heard again, twice.

She realized that it was probably his lips, and butterflies swarmed in her stomach.

For a while after they were situated, they were quiet still.  She looked around the beautiful, abandoned, rocky coast, let the silence and ocean waves sing to her like a lullaby.  She felt her eyelids getting heavy again, and was just on the edge of sleep when she heard his voice rumble low in his chest.

“Do you know why we’re here?” he inquired.

“Where is here, exactly?”

His laugh rang through the still night.

“On the outskirts of a national park that sits right on the edge of Malibu.  It’s usually pretty abandoned.”

She looked around at the empty beach.

“So.  Do you know why we’re here?” he asked again.

“Not specifically.”

There was a pause, where she just listened to the ocean, and closed her eyes.

Then, his lips were at her ear.  She shivered.

“Look up,” he whispered.

She did.  And she gasped.

“ _Oh_.”

“You like it?” he asked eagerly.

“Maks.  It’s  _beautiful_.”

She stared up at the night sky in awe.  A maze of countless white, twinkling stars littered the pitch dark horizon, like glitter littering a piece of black construction paper.  It was  _breathtaking,_ especially since it seemed like it had been so long since she’d seen a night sky with stars like this.  It made her think of home, which she suspected was his intention.

“You said you missed the stars,” he told her gently.  “So I found you stars.”

She could’ve cried, not just because this reminded her of nights on the lake in Michigan, but because he had listened and remembered and cared enough to do something about it.

She tilted her head further back, until she was staring at the bottom of his chin and the outline of his jaw, as he gazed up at the sky.

And she realized that with her, she had something more beautiful than the stars.

“Maks,” she murmured, turning in his arms.  She folded her legs under her and put her arms around him, lacing her fingers behind his neck.

“Princess,” he cooed, bringing his eyes back to her.  His expression was the softest she’d ever seen it, and it made her insides somersault in the best possible way.

“Thank you,” she told him sincerely.

“Anything for you.”

And deep inside herself, she knew his words were so very true.

They kept looking at each other, feeling the energy between them pop.  She was surprised it didn’t crackle and light up the night sky, as it traveled between them, it was so strong.  She swore it was palpable.  She could taste it, on her tongue.

His eyes, which had been strictly trained on hers, strayed, flicked down for the quickest second. And she _knew_  that he had been looking at her lips.

Goosebumps raised all over her body, even though she wasn’t anywhere near cold.

“Do you remember when you told me I was scared?” he questioned suddenly, delicately.  “And I told you I was terrified.  Of letting Val down.”

She nodded her head.

He admitted, “I lied to you. That’s not what I was scared of.”

She had known this, and the fact that she had been able to pick this up, to read him, made the corners of her lips turn up.

“What were you scared of?”

His eyes glanced down at her lips again, more noticeably.

“I was scared of falling in love with you.”

Her heart was beating so hard and fast, she was surprised he didn’t hear it.

But even though her heartbeat was heavy, she felt  _light_.

“Are you still scared?”

He smirked.

“No.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“I’m not scared anymore,” he explained, “because I’ve given up trying to control it.  I’ve realized that I can’t control it, and even if I could, it’s too late.  Because I am. I’m falling in love with you.  I have been for weeks.  Since the first day.”

He reached up, trailed his fingers down the side of her face, and grabbed a piece of her hair. Her eyelids fluttered.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he repeated.

And then he stared at her lips.

“And if you don’t say anything,” he whispered huskily, “I’m going to kiss you.”

She smiled.

But she didn’t say anything.

And he smiled.

And he kissed her.


	14. Week 5, Pt. 1

##  **Chapter 14 - _Week 5, Pt. 1_**

The rest of the night passed in blurs, in fits and starts, lost as she was in a cocoon of ecstasy and happiness and falling in love.  She knew there were many more kisses.  She remembered the way their mouths got acquainted and how his tongue searched out hers and the pleasure as his teeth nipped her bottom lip with just the right amount of pressure.

She remembered falling asleep on the beach, curled into his side.  She remembered vaguely being carried in his arms, still half-asleep, him laying her down in the backseat and tucking the quilt around her.  She remembered the kiss he pressed to her temple, and then to her nose, and then to her lips, like he couldn’t help himself to taste her again.

She remembered his hand stroking her thigh, as he reached into the backseat just to touch her.

She remembered him asking her if she wanted to go back to her condo.

She remembered shaking her head no.

She remembered being carried into his house and to the bathroom, where he helped her out of her sandy clothes.  She remembered him waiting outside the bathroom patiently as she showered, and how he had slipped one of his t-shirts over her shoulders when she had finished up.

She remembered cuddling up in his bed, dozing off until he curled up behind her, smelling of soap and shampoo.

She remembered falling back to sleep for good, their hands intertwined on her stomach.

But above everything else, she remembered falling in love.

*             *             *

She walked into rehearsal a half hour late.  For God’s sake, Val was there before her.

He eyed her suspiciously.

“Hello, Meryl.”

She put down her bag and water bottle casually, trying to pretend nothing was different.

“Hello, Val,” she greeted.

She fixed her hair and took a drink.  He stayed seated on the floor, twiddling his thumbs.

“So,” he said, dragging the word out like a song.  “That tango you and my brother did last night.”

“Did you like it?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Meryl,” he stated, suddenly serious.  He took her hand, and she looked at him.

“That tango was, hands down, the best dance I’ve ever seen on this show.  The choreography, the technicality, the story of the whole thing…perfection.”

She smiled.

“Thank you, Val.”

He cleared his throat.

“ _However_ , the thing I would like to talk about most is the…chemistry, if you may.”

Her heart dropped. She’d hoped to avoid this.

“How very gossip columnist of you,” she retorted, trying to detract him.

“Not if it’s my brother and my dance partner, and we’re in the middle of a fierce competition.  Then it’s kind of my business.”

“It is absolutely  _none_  of your business,” she declared forcefully.

“I need to know what’s going on.  What if someone asks me?  I’m your partner and his brother, for fuck’s sake.  If people are going to ask someone, they’re going to ask me.”

“Tell them that there’s nothing going on,” she told him.

“And lie?” he questioned.

Her face burned.

“It’s not lying if you don’t know there’s anything going on.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore how you two were both conspicuously absent from dinner?  And how I saw you get your water bottle out of his car this morning?  And how we was beaming like he won the lottery when we passed each other in the hall a few minutes ago?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Do you understand how…difficult this will be if it gets out?  People could accuse him of sabotaging Danica so you had a better chance to win.  Or not spending enough time on her.  And don’t forget, the moment we have a bad week, people are going to blame it on your relationship.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Or how you’re going to get on after this?  Don’t you live in Michigan?  Are you and Charlie going to go to the next Olympics?  How are you going to fit Maks into that equations?”

“We don’t have to think about that yet,” she murmured.

“Don’t have to think about?” he gasped incredulously.  “ _Of course_  you have to think about it. You can’t just jump into things blindly without regarding consequences, especially when you’re on a fucking reality show.  Tell me, did you even think about anything before you started fucking my brother?”

She gaped at him, and then threw her water bottle in his direction without thinking.  It hit is leg, and he yelped.

“ _Ow!_  What the fuck was that?”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she spit, pickup her bag and grabbing her water bottle back.  “That’s what that was.  I don’t know why the fuck you decided to attack me today, but I don’t deserve it and I’m not going to sit her and fucking take it.  Call me if you decided to get out of your shitty mood.”

She marched to the door, and opened it.  Before she left, she turned to him.

“And for the record, I’m not  _fucking your brother_.”

And then she slammed the door behind her.

She threw on her sunglasses and walked outside, immediately greeted by the snap and flash of paparazzi. She tried her best to smile and talk to them cheerfully, like they always did, so they wouldn’t think anything was up.  When they asked her why she was leaving so early, she said she wasn’t feeling well. The truth, really.  They hadn’t asked her to clarify if her illness was physical or emotional.

She got into her car and steeled herself, trying to hold her tears at bay until she was at least out of the parking lot.

As she was about to pull out, someone knocked on her window.

It was Charlie.

She sighed.  If it was anyone else, she would have seriously thought about just pulling out anyway, hurt feelings or any other reactions be damned.

But she could never do that to Charlie.

She rolled down the window.

“What do you want, Charlie?”

His eyebrows pulled together when he heard her voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sick,” she lied.

“You don’t sound sick. You sound  _pissed_.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, that too. What’s up?  I want to leave.”

Charlie frowned.

“I need to talk to you, but…you also sound sad.”

That made her pause, and she stared up at him.

Why did he have to know her so well?

She exhaled, and ran a hand through her hair.

“If you want to know,” she told him, “and want to talk to me about whatever, get in the car.  We’re going for a ride.”

*             *             *

“What’s going on, Meryl?”

“Val is a dick,” she stated bluntly.

“Okay,” Charlie said cautiously.  “Why is Val a dick?”

She took a deep breath.

“If I tell you, Charlie, you have to promise not to say a single word to anyone.”

A beat passed between them. She started to get suspicious.

“What?  You’re not going to promise me that?”

Charlie mumbled something she couldn’t understand.

“ _What_?”

“Is it about Maks?” Charlie asked softly.

She gasped, and pulled the car over immediately.

“How did you know that?”

He sighed.

“Meryl.”

“Don’t Meryl me,” she said frantically.  “How the fuck did you know that?”

“Everyone knows,” he whispered.

She felt the blood drain from her face.

“How?” she breathed.

“At dinner last night,” he began, “Nene was talking about how she overheard her driver talking to your driver before they left the studio, and they were discussing how…”

“How what?” she asked flatly.

Charlie muttered, “How you and Maks went home together.”

She actually was going to be physically ill, now.

Plus, she was going to kill her driver.

“And everyone knows?”

Charlie nodded.

“It was the most popular topic of conversation at dinner last night.”

She wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the voice to do so.

“What, are we in high school?” she tried to joke.  But her tone came out wrong, and she just sounded angry.

“Get a group of people together like this, it’s almost always like high school.  To be fair, no one seemed to begrudge you anything. They all seemed happy for you two.”

“It’s not their right,” she whispered, almost to herself.  “It’s not their right to talk about it, or to know about it.”

“I know, Mer,” he said, taking her hand.  “Now, why is Val a dick?”

“He berated me for fucking his brother this morning.  Which I didn’t, by the way.”

“Excuse me?” Charlie gasped.

She shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it. He was in a mood.  I’m sure we’ll talk about it and apologize.  If he doesn’t, Maks will make him.”

Even the mention of his name, in such contrast from last night, made her sad.

Charlie could tell. He squeezed her hand.

“I knew it would end up like this,” she lamented.  “I knew it. I mean, look at us.  It’s only been half a day and it’s already a mess. I knew I shouldn’t have done anything. I shouldn’t have went with him.  I shouldn’t have kissed him, I shouldn’t – “

Her voice broke as the first tears fell.

“Mer,” Charlie murmured.

“It’s just…I like him  _so much_ , Charlie.  I…I like him  _so much_.”

Charlie smiled sadly.

“What do I do, Charlie?”

“I don’t know, Meryl,” he told her honestly, true sympathy in his voice.

She made eye contact with him, and that was all it took.  She burst into tears.

And Charlie held her.


	15. Week 5, Pt. 2

##  **Chapter 15 - _Week 5, Pt. 2_**

After she had pulled herself together, she drove back to her condo.  Charlie took her car back to the studio, promising to bring it back after his rehearsals were over.  He rolled the window down and spoke before he left, a concerned look on his face.

“Call me if you need something, Meryl.”

“I will.”

“I’m serious, Mer.”

“I know you are, Charlie.”

She walked back indoors and jogged upstairs, finding her pajamas and crawling back into bed.  She was exhausted, and upset, and she couldn’t deal with any of this right now.  She turned her phone on silent and curled up under her blankets.  She was allowing herself to take a lazy day; she couldn’t remember the last time she had one.  It had to be months before Sochi, if not longer.

It didn’t take long before she drifted asleep.

Later, she was awakened by a loud knock on the door.  She groaned, rolled over and put the blankets over her head until she heard the banging again, even louder this time.

It didn’t seem that whomever was at her door was going to leave her alone.

She sighed, and threw the covers back, grabbing her phone off the nightstand.

_10 missed calls – Maks_

She had a pretty good guess as to who was knocking.

She threw on a pair of slippers and jogged downstairs.  She opened the door just as he was about to knock for a third time.

He stared at her, eyes wide, every inch of his expression laced with worry.

“Meryl,” he murmured, the corner of his lips turning up as he did, despite the situation.

“Maksim,” she returned, voice still groggy with sleep, but level.  She both hated and loved how much calmer she felt just because he was here with here.  After all,  _he_ , and their relationship, was the main culprit behind her troubles.

But she liked him  _so much_.  She couldn’t help it.

“Are you okay?” he questioned softly.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she retorted sharply.  Just because she was glad he was here, didn’t mean her annoyance was gone.

Rather, the reminder that his presence was seemed to be bringing it out of her.  It was a strange dynamic, increasing and decreasing all at the same time like ocean waves.  Her anxiety balanced near where it had been before her nap.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Val came home really early and said your rehearsals were done for the day, which didn’t seem right, and so I went to the studio to see if you were still there.  And then Charlie told me you weren’t feeling well and went home. So I came to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” she said flatly.

“Okay.  I just…you weren’t answering my calls, so I wanted to be sure.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Plus,” he admitted, “I missed you.”

His words broke her mask, drowned her ire in how much they felt for each other.  She couldn’t be angry with him.  It wasn’t his fault.  She had given him permission.

She had accepted his love.

Her face crumpled. She stared down at her feet.

“I don’t think you’re okay, Meryl,” he told her.

And she began to cry.

Without hesitation, he scooped her up into his arms, and she melted into him.  He walked into the condo and kicked the door shut behind them, carrying them into the living room and scooting into a corner of the couch. He held her, rocking her back and forth gently, cooing in her ear over and over, “It’s okay, baby.  I’m here.”

She stopped crying rather quickly, her moment of weakness brief and tempered once again by his presence. She looked up at him, eyes red.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, laughing slightly.

He grinned, taking a piece of hair stuck to the tears on her cheeks and tucking it behind her ear.

“Don’t be sorry.  Just tell me what’s wrong.”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, her face falling again.

“Meryl,” he nearly begged.

“I’m not sick.  Your brother was just being an asshole.”

“He and Jenna got into a fight this morning,” he explained ruefully, “but that’s no excuse.  What did he say?”

She stared up at him, eyes suddenly dark.

“He yelled at me for fucking you.”

His jaw dropped, and then closed again, tensely.  He exhaled loudly.

“I’ll take care of that,” he assured her.

“You don’t have to.  I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” he said, smiling slightly.  “I know you will, but he’s not going to say something like that and get it past me. You say your piece, I’ll say mine, and maybe it will sink in.  Val’s a little shit sometimes.”

“That’s not the worst part, though,” she told him.

“What is?”

“Charlie told me everyone knows.  That we went home together.”

He swallowed loudly.

“Everyone?” he choked out.

She nodded.

“How?”

“My driver,” she spat.

She could practically see his blood begin to boil.

“I’m going to kill him,” he decided.

“Same.  Let me help.”

“Our first official date?”

And somehow, they laughed. She sat up on her knees and laced her fingers around his neck, resting her forehead against his.

“How do you do that?” she inquired, in awe.

“Do what?”

“Make me forget everything bad.  Make the whole awful situation seem like it’s nothing.  Like it will all turn out okay.”

He smiled at her sweetly, and kissed her cheek.

“It’s because I love you,” he declared.  “And like I told you last night, I’d do anything for you.”

Her heart swelled.

“You’re incredible,” she breathed.

“No,” he disagreed.  “ _I’m_ not. But love is.”

She smirked at him, and then leaned in to kiss him.  His lips parted, and he took her tongue into his mouth.  Lacing his hands into her hair, he held her against him, and her teeth nibbled on his bottom lip, making him moan quietly.  She smirked into his mouth, and then pulled away, both of them heaving.

“I think,” he said, taking a strand of her hair and twirling it around his finger, “that I could kiss you for the rest of my life, and never be bored.”

She giggled like she was seven, and rolled her eyes at herself.

“Oh my God, pull it together, Davis,” she joked.

“Please don’t,” he chuckled. “If this is you in a mess, I’m quite enjoying it.”

She laughed again, and nuzzled her face into his neck.

“What do we do, Maks?” she asked, suddenly serious.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.  “But, we have time, right now.  And we’ll think of something.  Because we have to.”

She nodded solemnly against his neck.  Then he pulled her face up, back to his.

“But I don’t want to think about that right now.  I just got you.  I want to enjoy you.”

She smirked, and kissed him chastely in agreement.

“You seem tired, princess,” he remarked, bringing his fingers up to trace the dark circles under her eyes.

“I am tired,” she yawned. “Even though I took a long nap, before someone woke me quite rudely,” she told him, pinching his side lightly.

“Then sleep,” he commanded softly, laughing again.

He laid them both down. They were presses up against each other on the small couch, noses touching.  She bumped his, and kissed his forehead.

“Still be here when I wake up,” she demanded.

“I wouldn’t move from this spot for anything in the world,” he promised her.

She smiled, and then cuddled further into him.

And within moments, they were both asleep.


	16. Week 5, Pt. 3

##  **Chapter 16 - _Week 5, Pt. 3_**

When they woke up, they threw together a quick dinner and then he left reluctantly, explaining that he wanted to talk to Val before he got to rehearsals the next morning.  They kissed goodbye, and she felt empty as she watched him walk out the door, his presence beside her already such a large part of her life that she never felt absolutely right unless he was there.

When she entered the rehearsal room the next morning, Val sat against the wall, staring at his feet. At the sound of her arrival, his head snapped up, remorse etched all over his face.

“Hello, Valentin,” she stated coolly. “Are we feeling better this morning?”

“I’m so sorry, Meryl,” he said immediately.  “Will you forgive me?”

She pressed her lips into a hard line.

“For what?”

“For yesterday morning,” he began.  “For treating you like shit.  You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, and you don’t deserve to be spoken to like that by  _anyone_ , let alone your partner and friend.”

“What else?” she egged on.

“For judging the situation before I knew all the details.  And for being so closed-minded to the whole idea of a relationship between you two.  I just don’t want anyone to get hurt, but I went overboard in expressing it.”

“One more thing.”

“For speaking about your relationship in such a demeaning way,” he said quietly, embarrassed.  “I don’t know what I was even thinking.  I could hit myself.  I just…”

He trailed off, making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, before looking up at her.  And she saw true regret in his eyes.

She sighed, and crouched down in front of him.

“I forgive you, Val. Of course I forgive you.  But you need to understand that whatever goes on between us, and whatever we decide our relationship is going to be – that’s none of your business.  And we’re going to do what feels right for us.  You can’t get mad at us if our decision isn’t what you would’ve picked. It’s ours, not yours.  Even though we’re both so close to you.”

“I know, babe,” he said. “I just…I know this isn’t an excuse, but I had such a shit morning yesterday. I don’t know if you know this, but Jenna and I have a thing going on.”

She smiled slightly.

“I could’ve guessed, with the way you two are around each other.”

This made the corner of his lips turn up for a brief moment, before falling again.

“Well,” he explained, “yesterday morning, right before we came to rehearsal, we got into our first big fight.  And, fuck, I’ve never been so scared over a girl before.  So when you came in, and I opened my mouth, everything I was feeling was whacked up and exacerbated and I just…it all came pouring out.  And it was like I couldn’t stop it.”

She scooted over to him, and slung an arm around her shoulder.

“Are things okay between you and Jenna?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “We talked last night and things are better.”

“Did Maks let you have it last night?”

Val laughed once.

“ _That’s_ the understatement on the year.  He went off on me, hard.  Not only was he irate over what I did to you, but he felt disrespected as well.  I don’t know. I never intended to do that.  And I’m so honestly sorry I did.”

“I believe you,” she told him, resting her head on his shoulder.

A beat passed between them, before Val cleared his throat.

“He really does care about you, you know.”

She smiled.

“I care about him, too.”

“I think he might even love you.”

She hummed, trying to hide the way her heart started to beat in double time as he said this.

“Not ready to say it back, princess?”

She groaned, turning her head into his shoulder.  He laughed lightly.

“It’s okay, babe. Like I told you once before, Maks falls in love more quickly than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That’s because he feels so much.”

“You’re right,” he told her. “Which is another reason I’m a little…scared.”

“Scared of what?” she questioned.

“That he’s going to get his heart broken.”

She lifted her head up to say something, but he held a finger up.

“I’m not saying that’s your intention.  Or that you would even do it purposefully.  But he’s just had his heart broken  _so many times_.  And because he feels so much, he takes any type of breakup so hard, regardless if he ends it or she does.  He gets bad, Meryl.  And it kills me.  He’s my big brother, and he’s done so,  _so much_  for me, and I love him more than anything.  I just don’t want to have to see him like that again.”

“I don’t want to make him feel like that,” she murmured.

“And maybe you won’t,” Val said, shrugging.  “Or maybe you will.  It all depends on a lot. But we have no way of knowing what’s going to happen in the future, so there’s no sense in worrying about it know.  Of course, that doesn’t stop me, but that’s just something I have to deal with.”

She stayed still against him, listened to him breathing in and out.

“Are we good, babe?”

“We’re good,” she answered, and he kissed her head.

“Come on, then, Meryl,” he said, hopping up and pulling her up with him.  “We should get started on our Jungle Book Samba before we have to fly out.”

She clapped her hands.

“I’m so excited for Disney Week!” she exclaimed.

Val rolled his eyes.

“I’d be more excited if we didn’t have a Jungle Book Samba.”

And they both laughed.

*             *             *

She feared she wouldn’t be able to see him before they left for Pennsylvania, and she was resigning herself to the fact that they weren’t going to get to say goodbye, when Val called her and told her to give special instructions to her driver.  He ended up parking at a back corner of the airport parking lot, where she saw him and Val leaning against his car.

Her heart leaped, and she practically jumped out of the car.  Val laughed as she tackled him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him square on the lips.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Val called back, as he picked up his bag and began towards LAX.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you,” she said into his cheek as she kissed it.

“As if I would ever had let that happen,” he countered, bringing his hands up to tangle in her hair.

“I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you, too, princess.  Call me every night,” he instructed.

“Of course.  And keep in touch with me, too.  Text me all the time.”

“I will,” he promised, squeezing her to him one last time before setting her on the ground and kissing her for a long time.

“I love you, Meryl,” he told her, looking into her eyes.

She smiled, and kissed the underside of his jaw.

“I can’t wait to get back to you,” she whispered.

And she took her bag, and began to walk towards the airport, looking back on him until she could barely see him.

And even though she didn’t say it back, she could feel it growing inside her.  She could feel it with every beat of her heart, in all of her veins, in every breath and blood cell.

She could feel herself falling in love.


	17. Week 5, Pt. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Leela James' "Fall for You" as you read this.
> 
> Love and thanks to you all, xo.

##  **Chapter 17 - _Week 5, Pt. 4_**

She flew home Saturday night.  Before she could unlock her front door, though, someone opened it for her.

And to her delight, he was standing on the other side.

“Maks!” she exclaimed, throwing her bags down and leaping into his arms.  He laughed at her enthusiasm.

“Happy to see me, princess?”

“Yes,” she squealed, burying her face into the side of her neck.  “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” he tells her sweetly, running his fingers through her hair, and then grabbing her face, tilting it up to press a slow kiss to her lips.

“Tell me all about your trip,” he requested, kicking her bags into the house and then closing the front door.  He carried her to the couch and sat down, and she curled into his lap, laying her hand over his heart and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Tell me about your show. Tell me about your week with Val. Tell me everything.  I want to know everything.”

So she told him everything – about skating, about dancing, about all the stupid stuff Val and her did and how he really got on with the skaters, how she previewed Charlie and Sharna’s dance and how spectacular it was, how she liked the hotel she stayed at, what food she ate and if she liked it or not, big things, little things, and everything in between.

And he listened and he commented and he  _cared_  and she didn’t think she’d ever experienced this before with another of her significant others.  Not like this.

And it was so affirming and comforting and  _beautiful_.

By the time she had finished, an hour had passed.  He looked at the time.

“I should probably go,” he stated reluctantly.

“No,” she whispered, reaching her hands up to trail over the contours of his face.  “Stay.  Don’t go. Stay with me.”

He smirked.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

They made dinner, and then sat on the small back porch attached to condo afterwards, enjoying the warm, clear, LA evening.  They talked about nothing, his arm around her, fingers tapping light patterns on her shoulder.  And she loved every moment of it.

She loved it  _so much_.

He looked at his watch around 10 o’clock.

“It’s late,” he sighed. “And we both have to be up early tomorrow for camera blocking.”

She knew he was right, so she didn’t say anything.  Instead, she crawled into his lap again.  His arms went around her immediately, bringing her closer to him, holding her tightly.

“If I’m being honest,” she began, “I didn’t expect to miss you this much.”

“I understand what you mean,” he told her.  “I mean, I  _knew_  I would miss you like hell. But I didn’t know it would be so hard to get through just a few days without you.  It was…it was  _strange_. Not  _bad_.  Just…”

“Nothing ever quite feels right if you’re not here,” she finished.

He smiled.

“Exactly.  And when we’re together,” he said, trailing a hand down the side of her face, “it’s like all is right in the world.”

She exhaled contentedly, settling further into him.

“Everything is right in the world.”

“Meryl.”

“Yes?”

“I want to kiss you.”

She grinned widely, and sat up on her knees.

“Then kiss me,” she challenged playfully.

He did.

He kissed her, and kissed her and  _kissed her_ , and this time when she couldn’t breathe and broke away from him, he only let her rest for a moment before putting his mouth back on hers.  It was the most passionate kiss they had ever shared, thus far, and she could feel her body beginning to react to him, to the feeling of his tongue stroking hers, of his teeth nibbling on her bottom lip, of his hands roaming across her back, grabbing her ass and trying to bring her closer to him.

He turned her in his arms so that he hovered over her, pressed his lips against hers  _hard_ , and then pulled away from her suddenly, heaving.  She groaned.  Opening her eyes, she saw him staring down at her, his eyes dark and excited.

“Meryl,” he murmured gruffly.  Chills ran up her spine.

“Maksim,” she returned.

“If I don’t leave right now, it’s going to be very hard for me to leave.”

The muscles in the very bottom of her stomach tightened, and she felt dizzy.

She gazed up at him, raked her eyes over his lips, up his cheeks and nose, until she reached his eyes. And she really  _studied_ them.

And what she saw in them could’ve made her cry, if it hadn’t pleased her so.

Because underneath his desire, and excitement, she saw it there, plain as day.

She saw  _love_.  His love for her.

And in that moment, everything clicked into place.

She  _knew_.  And it decided her.

She reached up, tangled her fingers into his hair, pushed his face down to rest against hers.

“Then don’t leave,” she whispered against him.

She felt his smile on her skin.

“You’re sure?” he checked.

She nodded.

And he wedged his face into the crook of her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up her throat, across her jaw, over her chin and cheeks until he finally reached her lips.

And he kissed her.

And he didn’t leave.

*             *             *

They made love that night, for the first time.  It was frenzied, and frantic, and furious, as neither seemed to ever be close enough, to ever feel enough, to ever drown enough in the other.

The second time, not very long afterwards, was slow, and sweet, and lazy.  They took time – to love, to see, to breathe.  They memorized the patterns on each other’s skin, met and learned about every part of each other.

When they had finished, she curled up on top of him, traced invisible pictures over his chest, while he touched his fingers against every vertebrae of his spine in a circuit, his hand traveling up and down and then up again.

And she knew.

“Maks?”

“Baby?”

“I love you,” she murmured.

His fingers paused on her back for the briefest moment, before continuing.  She heard the pillows rustle as he leaned up and kissed her temple.

“Thank you, princess,” he whispered, almost reverently.  “I love you, too.”

He wrapped his arms around her, turning them on their sides so they were facing each other.  He grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers, letting their noses bump together.

“Will you leave me?” she asked.

“No.”

“I’ll never leave you,” she promised.  “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” he swore, staring directly into her eyes, into her  _soul_ , and squeezing her hand.  He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

And he pulled the covers up over them, as they both drifted to sleep.


	18. Week 5, Pt. 5

##  **Chapter 18 - _Week 5, Pt. 5_**

She woke up the next morning to the blare of her alarm.  She opened her eyes and found him, leaning on his arm, just watching her, hand resting on her stomach.

“Good morning, princess,” he murmured.

She smiled shyly, and reached her hand up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers to kiss him.  When they broke apart, she rolled over on her side, and he spooned up behind her, resting his cheek on hers, tangling their legs together.

“I don’t want to get up,” she told him.  “I want to stay right here with you for the rest of my life.”

She felt his chest move against her as he laughed, and he pressed a peck against her cheek.

“We’ll just hide away from the rest of the world forever.”

“Please,” she giggled.

“Well, we can’t do that,” he told her, the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice.  “But I do think we can spare a few more minutes in bed. And there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Her stomach dropped for a brief moment as he turned her in his arms to face him.  But then she saw how warm his eyes were, how devoted an expression he wore, and her anxiety melted away, as if he were the sun.

“Last night,” he began, “you told me that you loved me for the first time.”

She blushed, but couldn’t hide the smile that washed over her face.

“I did,” she murmured, cuddling herself even closer to him.

“You meant it, yeah?”

“Of course,” she assured him, bringing her hand to his jaw and tracing the light stubble there.

“I would like it… _so_ very much, princess, if you could tell me again.”

She beamed, and kissed his shoulder lightly before speaking, without hesitation.

“I love you, Maks.  I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…”

And she sang it to him, like a song, as he held her.

*             *             *

They were making breakfast, him scrambling eggs and her brewing coffee, when he asked her.

“So, what would you like to do about our arrival situation to camera blocking?”

She froze for a moment, her head spinning as she thought of the possibilities.  He cleared his throat.

“Mer?”

She turned to see him looking back at her, frying pan and spatula in hand.  She giggled.

“What?”

“You look so…” she paused, looking for the right word.  “Domestic.”

He looked down at himself, and smirked.

“I guess I do, don’t I?   Just give me an apron and I could easily pass for stay-at-home dad.”

“It’s cute,” she told him, turning back to her coffee.  “I like domestic Maks.  I could get used to him.”

If someone had told her that morning at Good Morning America that a in a little more than five weeks, this absolutely gorgeous man would be standing in her kitchen making her breakfast and talking domesticity after they had just spend the night ravishing each other, she would have laughed in their face.

And yet here they were. The fact made her giddy.

“I could get used to being domestic,” he said, finishing up the eggs and turning to the kitchen island, separating them into two servings on the plates she had set out.  “If I had the right girl to be domestic for.”

She got out two mugs and poured the coffee, handing him a cup.

“Could I be the right girl?” she asked, trying to take a sip of her drink casually.

“I think you could be,” he told her, smiling over the rim of his mug.  Her stomach did somersaults.

“Not to change the subject,” he began, pulling her of a sickly sweet, teenage reverie where he was making her pancakes on their wedding anniversary.

(It was stupid stupid  _stupid_ , she knew, but she had given up being concerned about that.  She was so absolutely happy.  And if that bliss came at a risk, then she would take it, every time.)

“But you never answered my question.  What do you want to do about arriving?”

She sighed.  This was something she didn’t want to think about.

“Hey,” he said, reaching across the island and grabbing her hand.  “Don’t get discouraged.  We can do this.”

She nodded, took a deep breath to steel her nerves, and then stared him square in the face.

“What are our options?” she asked.

“Well, if you want me to stay again tonight…”

He trailed off, looking at her questioningly.

“Yes, please,” she answered immediately.  He smiled.

“Then I’ll need to stop home and get some things.  I don’t have a car, though.  Serge dropped me off yesterday, so I could surprise you.  So if you want to arrive separately, you can drive me back home and then head off, and I’ll take my car and get there a little later.”

“Okay,” she stated, cataloging this in her mind.  “Second option.”

“Second option, if we want to arrive together, is that you take me home, I grab some stuff, and then we…more or less show up together.  Damn everyone’s reactions.  Don’t go out of our way to tell anyone what’s going on, but don’t deny it, either.  And take whatever comes.

“And then, third option, show up together, but lie.  Say that Val wanted to see you this morning and then you were nice enough to offer to drive me.  People would be suspicious, but they couldn’t prove anything.  We’d just have to mention something to Val about it.”

“I don’t want to lie,” she whispered.

“Okay.  Then scratch option three.  Now the question is, do you want to keep us a secret or not?”

She thought about this for a minute, taking a bite of her eggs and a sip of her coffee.

“What do you want?” she asked finally.

He shrugged.

“I’ve had really secretive relationships before, and kind of open ones.  Both ways have pros and cons.  I’ve learned that it’s more based on the person you’re with, and less on how you decide to present the relationship to everyone, though that still matters, of course.  And I know I have a pretty wonderful person in you,” he smirked, glancing up at her. “So it’s up to you.  Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

She nodded slowly, and bit her lip.

“This might sound odd,” she warned him, “but I think…I think I want people to know.”

While there was still a part of her, of course, that feared how people could tear them apart, that worried how much this might hurt if things didn’t turn out the way she wanted, there was an even bigger part of her that was so wholly  _enamored_  with him, his being and his mind and his soul, that she didn’t want to keep this beautiful person entirely to herself. She didn’t want there to be any question.

_I am his, he is mine, and we love each other_.

He came around the island to stand next to her, bumping her hip with his.

“Yeah, princess?”

“Not details, of course,” she clarified, pushing her eggs around on her plate with her fork.  “Not anything specific, really.  I just want them to know that we’re together.  That we’re in love.  And that’s it.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just reached his hand under her chin and turned her head so she was looking at him.

“I don’t want to hide you,” she told him softly.  “I’m not ashamed of you.  You’re not bad.  You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and this could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  Why would I want to hide you?”

He leaned down to kiss her, and it was innocent, but it lingered.  When he pulled back, he had a slight smile on his face.

“Option two it is, then.”


	19. Week 5, Pt. 6

##  **Chapter 19 - _Week 5, Pt. 6_**

Val was already gone when they arrived back at Maks’, which she was thankful for.  While she wouldn’t have minded seeing Val, him not being there gave them a few extra minutes with no questions or probing looks.  It let them just  _be_ for a few moments more, in this safe bubble they had created between the two of them.

He changed clothes quickly, and then threw a few things from his bedroom and bathroom into his workout bag, along with the regular things he usually brought to a rehearsal.  Before they left, he grabbed her hands, bringing one up to his lips in order to kiss it before letting it drop, leaving their hands hanging between them.

“You ready for this?” he asked her.

She shrugged.

“As I’ll ever be.”

He smiled gently, squeezing her fingers.

“We can do this, you know.”

“I know,” she assured him. “Just a little nervous, is all.”

“I love you.”

She grinned involuntarily at his words, her heart skipping a beat before starting again in its normal rhythm.  She wondered if she would ever get used to hearing him say that, no matter how long they ended up being together.  She hoped not; the rush she felt when he spoke the words was both dizzying and _delicious_.  She never wanted it to leave.

“I love you, too,” she replied, and he leaned down, kissing her on the lips, opening her mouth with his own and letting their tongues mingle before pulling away, his eyes bright.

“I hope I never get used to that.  I hope that new and exciting feeling is always there, no matter how many times we kiss.”

She didn’t say anything, instead taking his hands and placing them around her waist.  He pulled her hips against his, and she licked her lips.

“We better go,” he murmured huskily.  “Before we get distracted and we end up being  _really_  late to camera blocking.”

And even though she wished they had the freedom to relax and let themselves be distracted, she knew he was right, and they had to leave.  So she pulled away from him, grabbed his hand and her bag and led them towards the door.

They were off.

They arrived just as they usually did, amidst a flurry of fans wanting pictures and autographs, photographers wanting to snap their every movement, inquiring about everything from their personal life to what they thought about the competition to how their weekend was going.

He sighed, reached over into her lap and took one of her hands, intertwining their fingers.

“You’re still sure?” he asked.  “About not wanting to lie?”

She thought for a moment, and then nodded.

“Yeah.  I just…I don’t want to deal with all the energy a lie would take.”

“Holding hands or no?”

“Not yet,” she decided. “Not the first time.”

“Got it.”

He let go of her hand, and gave her a pointed look.

“Shall we go, princess?”

He smiled at her, and she felt some of the anxiety that was twisting her stomach in knots fade away.

Just because he was there to smile at her.

Just because she loved him.

“We shall,” she told him.

And with a synchronous deep breath, they both opened their doors.

Camera flashes and questions greeted them immediately, especially once the paparazzi realized that they were there together.  But the two of them stayed silent in response to the invasive queries, bidding the crowd good morning, going over and saying hello to the few fans that were there, and then walking inside the building quickly.

As soon as they were out of sight of the door, he pulled her to him, and slung an arm around her shoulders.

“Pretty painless, yeah?”

She nodded, smiling optimistically.

“Yeah.  That didn’t go badly at all.”

“See,” he told her, bumping her hip with his.  “I told you we could do this.”

“Don’t speak too soon. We haven’t been around everyone else yet, and taken all their questions and curiosity.”

“Ah, they’re all pretty decent people.  They’ll be polite.”

They put their things down, and made their way into the ballroom.

They could feel the room pause as they walked in together.

Although no one said anything right away, the room was screaming with their silent speculation. She could feel eyes on her, like a bunch of laser points all over her body.

She was beginning to feel nervous –  _too_ nervous, especially now, as nothing had even happened yet.  She could feel her stomach turn, and she wondered briefly if she made the wrong choice. If she should have hidden him, so no one could mar it with a violation of privacy.

But then she saw Val, striding towards them with the biggest smile on his face. He came between them, and wrapped an arm around both of their shoulders, ushering them into the room.

“Well, come on.  Don’t just stand here on the edge of the room frozen like idiots.  That just makes it all the more obvious that you have something to hide.  I’m guessing that you two  _don’t_  want the attention.”

“We’re not hiding anything, Val,” she told him, as they made their way over to some chairs and sat down.

“No?” he asked.  “So I can tell everyone that my brother and my partner are two lovestruck fools?”

“We’re not hiding anything,” Maks clarified, “but we’re also not going out of our way to tell anyone. So no.”

“Okay, okay.  I was just kidding, bro.  But speaking of lovestruck fools, I’m assuming since this one,” Val said to Meryl, motioning to Maks, “didn’t come home last night, two of my favorite people had a pretty awesome time.”

“Oh my God,  _Val_ ,” she groaned, a deep blush spreading over her skin.

“Shut up, asshole,” Maks muttered, hitting Val’s shoulder.

“I’m taking those statements as a confirmation.”

Val wiggled his eyebrows, looking between them both.

And in spite of everything, she laughed.  Val grinned.

“See, that’s what I was going for.  You two both look so nervous, I just wanted to lighten you up a little bit.”

She glanced over at Maks, who was trying desperately to keep frowning at his brother, but failing spectacularly.

She caught his glance, and they both smiled.

Just then, a guest choreographer announced rehearsal for the pro part of the opening number, and both Maks and Val got up to leave.  But before Maks walked away, he stopped, turned on his heel and came to stand in front of her.

“What?” she asked quietly.

He bent down, put his lips at her ear.

“I don’t know how you feel about PDA, but you look so beautiful and I love you so much that I can’t help myself.  Don’t be mad at me.”

And he moved his face to press his lips to her cheek.

He pulled back quickly, and then glanced around, to check if anyone saw.  It didn’t seem like it, so he looked back at her, placing a finger to his lips.

“Our secret,” he whispered.

She giggled, and he smiled brilliantly at her before jogging off to rehearse.

And even though he was halfway across the ballroom, the place on her cheek where he’d kissed her was still warm.


	20. Week 5, Pt. 7

##  **Chapter 20 - _Week 5, Pt. 7_**

As soon as Maks left, Charlie walked over to her.

“Charlie,” she greeted, smiling.

“Can we talk about some things?”

She looked at him warily, and he laughed.

“Don’t look at me like that.  It’s not anything bad.  I’m just…curious.  And if you’re willing to tell me, I’d like to know.”

She patted the seat next to her.

“Sure, Chuck.  I can’t hide anything from you anyways,” she continued as he sat down.  “Seventeen-year partnerships will do that to you. As long as you promise not to go blabbing to everyone, like my driver or Nene.”

“I promise,” he said, and they linked their pinkies together, sealing what he swore, before continuing.

“So, after your tango?”

She nodded, smiling as she thought back on that perfect night.

“What made you give in?”

“I don’t know, Charlie.  I was just…so  _tired_. It’s exhausting, pushing someone away so hard when you feel something so deeply for them.  And I didn’t want to fight anymore.  I stopped caring about whether it was stupid or not, and…let go.”

She let her eyes drift away from Charlie and towards the dancefloor, where she found him instantly, as if he had some magnetic pull that called to her core.  Tony said something, and he threw his head back in laughter.  Her heart fluttered.

“And was it as wonderful as you’d hoped?” Charlie inquired.

“It was that and more,” she breathed.  “It was everything.  It still is.”

“What are you guys going to do now?  Since everyone knows something is up?”

She shrugged.

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“What are we supposed to do?” she questioned.  “Break up?  I can’t do that.  I can’t lose him.  I love him too much already.”

Their conversation paused, as they both watched the professional dancers rehearse.  Her eyes followed his every movement.

“You love him?” he asked softly.  “Already?”

She exhaled slowly, and nodded.

“I do.  I know it happened so fast and I know it’s going to be really hard.  But I…I can’t even describe it right, Charlie.  It’s like, when we’re apart, I’m okay, but I just feel…unbalanced, or incomplete, or something.  And then when he’s there, it’s like everything in the world is in its proper place.”

“I know what you mean,” he replies, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently.  “I feel that way when I’m with Tanith.”

She gulped at the implications of his words.  He was getting ready to  _propose_  to Tanith.

“You think I’m going to marry Maks?” she tried to joke.  The words came out too seriously for her to pull it off, though.  Charlie shook his head.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.  I’m just telling you that’s what it feels like, when you really love someone.”

“I really love him,” she whispered.

“I know,” Charlie smirked.   “I can tell.”

“How?”

“You haven’t stopped looking at him this entire conversation, for starters.”

She smiled.

“Aren’t you ever afraid,” he inquires, “about what’s going to happen after this madness is over?”

“A little,” she admitted, biting her lip.  “But at the same time, I don’t want to miss something amazing just because I’m afraid of something that may or may not happen. And even if it does happen, it won’t be for a while.”

“Yeah.  But will you be able to live with the heartbreak if it doesn’t, considering how deep in you are?”

She considered Charlie’s question carefully before answering.

“Yes.  I would live.”

But she didn’t  _want_  to. She could live without him, but the thought of it now was so  _painful_  that every part of her shied away from it.

She didn’t want to have to live with him absent from her side.

_Shit_ , she was gone.

“Let’s not talk about that,” she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder.  “Let’s talk about happy things.”

“You seem really happy, Mer.”

“I am really happy.   _So_  happy.”

Maks caught her eye, and smiled.

*             *             *

Erin pulled her aside in the hallway as she was on her way to a last-minute meeting with the costume department.

“Can I talk to you about something really quick?”

She nodded.

“Of course.  Anything.”

They went into a rather lonely part of the studio, down a hall and around a corner.  Erin leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and looking down at her feet.  Meryl frowned.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Erin nodded.  “It’s just…”

She trailed off.

“What?” Meryl asked.

“Everyone saw you and Maks arrive together today.  And now it’s kind of the buzz around the studio.”

She bit her lip.  Meryl had expected this, but it still made her feel slightly sick.

“I figured it would be,” she whispered.  “Maks and I talked about it before we decided to come together, and agreed that it was okay.  That we would deal with it.”

“That’s great,” Erin smiled slightly, “but unfortunately it’s also quite the buzz in the producers’ office.  The hot story of the week.”

“Oh.  _Oh._ ”

They wanted Erin to ask them about it.

“I don’t know if you knew,” Erin began, “but Maks and I kind of dated for a while during and after our season.  Don’t worry, it’s  _totally_ over now.  But I remember how uncomfortable all the dating questions made me feel.  That’s why Maks blabbed about it so much; he tried to relieve my stress by making jokes, bless him.”

Meryl laughed lightly, despite everything.

“That’s so  _Maks_.”

Erin smirked, and then sighed.

“Listen.  I’m kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place here.  No matter what I do, I’m going to disappoint someone.  It’s just a matter of deciding if I want them to be my friends, or my bosses.”

Meryl though back to her and Maks’ conversation that morning, what she had told him.

_“I don’t want to hide you.  I’m not ashamed of you.  You’re not bad.  You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and this could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  Why would I want to hide you?”_

And she smiled.

“Go ahead and ask me, Erin.”

Erin started at her questioningly, brow furrowed.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

Letting Erin ask tomorrow would give her an opportunity to clear the air about their relationship, to set a precedent before other people who knew nothing about the situation.  It would get her out ahead of it, to reveal what she wanted while placating people’s thirst for information.

It would give her control.

And she smiled again.

“Yeah, Erin.  I’m sure.”


	21. Week 5, Pt. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept my sincerest apologies for making you wait so long for this.
> 
> Love and thanks to you all, xo.

##  **Chapter 21 - _Week 5, Pt. 8_**

She and Val were up first on Monday night, and she was both nervous and excited to be able to open Disney night.  Add to that the fact that Erin was going to ask about her and Maks tonight, and she was a ball of anxiety.  She retreated inside herself, like she did before one of her skating events. Her usual bubble of energy and excitement was absent, and Maks walked up to her, a knowing smile on his face.

“Nervous, princess?”

She grinned shyly.

“A little.  But I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will be,” he assured her, bring his hand up to cup her face, running the pad of his thumb lightly over her cheekbone.  “You’re so strong.”

She nuzzled her face into his hand, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly.

“Remember, you can always change your mind if you want to. You don’t have to tell Erin anything.”

“I know,” she told up, reaching up and taking his hand off her face, intertwining their fingers.  “But I think it’s better to get out ahead of it, don’t you?”

He nodded, and glanced around the room, before leaning down and kissing her lips quickly.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

Suddenly, she was called into makeup for the final time, and by the time she was finished up, it was time for everyone to get into places for the opening number.  After the dance, Val scooped her up quickly, leading her onto the platform, both smiling and waving at the cameras as Tom announced their names.  As soon as the lights dimmed in the ballroom, Val turned her around.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she answered, and Val frowned.

“Usually you say, ‘Yeah, yay! I’m so excited!’.”  Val voice rose to a squeaky, light sound as he imitated her.  She slapped his chest lightly.

“I don’t sound like that.”

Val snorted.

“Yes you do, babe.”

“Whatever.  Okay, maybe I do.  But that’s not the point.  I’m a little nervous, I’ll admit.”

“About what?” he questioned.

“Not the dance, really.  Not the dance at all, actually.  More afterwards.  I know I’m going to tell Erin that we’re together, but I’m not sure how I’m going to say it or what…”

She trailed off when she realized that he had frozen in front of her.

“Val?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Val?” she repeated anxiously.  She saw he was staring at something over her head, so she turned and followed his gaze to one of the big screens showing their package.

And her stomach dropped to her feet as she saw herself and Maks saying goodbye at the airport.

“How?” Val finally managed to choke out.

“What the fuck?” she murmured tears gathering in her eyes as she watched Maks kiss her on screen.

Suddenly, the package ended and it was time for her and Val to dance. He turned her around again, stared at the desperately.

“Just don’t think about it.  Think about the dance.  Think about me.  That’s it.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes, and was reminded of the night she and Maks did their tango, and how he unnerved she was at the package.  Maks had taken her hand, told her  _“You and me,”_ and calmed her down.  That dance turned out spectacularly, but Val didn’t have the same effect on her that his brother did, and she ended up messing up twice during the dance.  She looked at Val with tears in her eyes again, and he pulled her towards him, kissing her forehead and whispering in her ear.

“It’s okay, babe.  It’s okay.”

Judging was awful, as she feel not only the eyes of the audience, but also those of judges, staring at her speculatively, like her relationship with Maks made her some sort of spectacle in a circus show.  None of the judges were very kind, and Carrie Ann told her to make sure she didn’t get “distracted”.  She felt like vomiting, because comments like those, directed at her and Maks, were exactly what she feared.  Her nightmares were coming true.

She and Val scurried backstage as the show went to commercial break. Maks was nowhere to be found.

“What the fuck?” she whispered at Val again, a single tear escaping her eye and falling down her cheek.

Val looked dumbfounded.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know how – “

“I thought nobody knew about him visiting me before we left.”

“No one did,” Val insisted.  “It was more or less a last minute decision.  Maks called me a half an hour before I left for the airport from the studio and told me he wanted to meet up with you.  Who would he have told that would have spilled to the producers?”

“Do you trust everyone here?” she spat.

“Meryl,” Val sighed, giving her a pointed look.  “I know you’re upset, but you have to know that none of the pros here would betray you two like that.  And he wouldn’t have told any of the celebrities.  I know that much.”

“Then how did they  _know_?” she moaned.

“I don’t know, babe.  But I’ll find out, okay?  I promise.”

She nodded solemnly, dropping her head and letting a few more tears fall before closing her eyes.

“And please, Meryl.  Don’t let this stop you from moving forward with my brother.  Don’t let them take that from you.”

She didn’t answer.

Because they had already took him from her, at least a little bit.  They stole a moment that should have been  _theirs_  – no one else’s – and gave it to the entire world.  It didn’t feel like he was just hers anymore, or her just his.

It felt like a little part of him had just slipped through her fingers.

_Is that how every moment that escaped would always feel?_ , she wondered.

She heard Erin’s voice at that moment.

“Meryl!  So, I was thinking of questions, and I didn’t want to make them too invasive.  And I figured I would run them past – “

“Don’t ask me any questions about him,” Meryl mumbled.

“What was that?” Erin asked sweetly.

“Don’t ask me any questions about him,” she said, boldly this time, lifting her head.  “I changed my mind.  I don’t want any questions concerning my personal life.  And if you ask me them, I’m not going to answer.”

Erin stared at her, mouth hanging open.

“Oh.  Oh, uh…okay.”

“Thank you,” she breathed solemnly, and the pushed past Val and Erin to go look in a mirror and wipe her eyes for television.

She felt bad for putting Erin in an awkward position, and for being slightly rude to the woman.  But she had made her decision.

She wasn’t giving any more of him away tonight.


	22. Week 5, Pt. 9

##  **Chapter 22 - _Week 5, Pt. 9_**

She couldn’t find Maks anywhere.

He didn’t come seek her out, either, and even though she tried to not let this bother her, it  _bothered_ her.  She knew it wasn’t logical.  She knew that he was busy with Danica or could be with hair and makeup and might have not even  _seen_ the package.  He wasn’t avoiding her.  None of this was his fault.

But her heart was being irrational.

She avoided everyone else as much as she could for the rest of the night, not denying interactions when they came, but not at all seeking them out. Thankfully, no one spoke to her about the package or her relationship.  Most comments were encouraging words after the harsh results she and Val had received, for which she was thankful. Val was right.  The contestants on this show were good people, and none of them would’ve betrayed her and Maks if they had somehow found out.

Then how had they  _known_?

Before she knew it, Tom announced Maks and Danica’s names, and she rushed to the skybox, despite the events of the evening.  And she couldn’t help but smile at their Beauty and the Beast-inspired quickstep, because it was awesome and adorable and it was still  _him._ And she still felt what she felt for him.  She still loved him.

It just seemed so much difficult now, compared to what it was mere hours ago.

Maks and Danica made their way up the stairs to interview with Erin, and it was the first time she had been close to him since the beginning of the evening.  After they had finished speaking and received their scores, the show cut to commercial, and she reached out, grabbing the back of his blue satin coat as he began to walk away.

He turned, and they both smiled automatically as their eyes met. But her face fell quickly.  And she got straight to the point.

“Are you avoiding me?”

A quizzical look passed over his face.

“No.”

“I’ve been looking for you since I was finished dancing.  It’s almost the end of the show now.”

“I’ve had stuff to do,” he huffed, his frown now matching hers.  “I haven’t just been sitting around hiding from you.  I also have a dance partner and dance to do.”

“And you didn’t think it was important to at least consult with me after the footage of us they showed?”

“ _Consult_ with you?  What are we doing, going into battle?”

Normally, a statement like this would have been teasing, coming from his mouth.  But he was slowly getting pissed at her, and his tone was sharp.  Borderline  _mean_. It only upset her more.

“Kind of, yeah,” she snapped.

He rolled his eyes, and grabbed her hand, leading her down a maze of hallways until they found a secluded corner.  He let go of her, and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“Didn’t think it was a good idea for us to fight in public.”

“Is that what we’re doing?  Fighting?”

“Seems like it’s heading that way,” he concluded, and he reached one of his hands out, curling his fingers towards himself.  “Come on, babe.  Let me have it.”

“Don’t fucking call me babe.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you so much last night, did it?” he drawled lazily, flippantly.

She scoffed, and glared at him, turning to walk away.

“You’re an asshole when you’re mad, Maks.”

He grabbed her elbow, stopping and rotating her so she faced him again.

“And you’re a pain in the ass when you’re mad, Meryl.  So let’s get whatever this is over with now, please.”

“’Whatever this is?’  Did you see the package?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“ _And?_ ”

“And so what?” he retorted, sighing heavily.

She gaped at him, her mouth hanging open.  He rolled his eyes.

“Please, Meryl.  Find a way to look more shocked.”

“Well, excuse me for finding it surprising that you don’t care that they showed private footage of us to millions and millions of people.”

“It was going to happen eventually.  If this thing,” he said, pointing a finger and motioning between the two of them, “is going to last, it was going to happen eventually.”

“So we just shouldn’t care about it, then?”

“I didn’t say we shouldn’t care about it.  Does it suck?  Sure it does.  But what’s the point in worrying about it?  It’s not going to change anything.”

“Sure, we can’t change the past, but we can try to control what gets through in the future.”

“How?” he asked in exasperation.  “We tried to control what got through before, and it didn’t work, obviously.  What makes you think it’s going to work this time?”

“You think we should give up?  Just hand our relationship over to the masses?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Did  _you_  tell the producers we were going to be there?”

“Of course not,” he spat, crossing his arms in front of him again. “Do you really think that lowly of me? You don’t trust me?”

“I just don’t know how else they would’ve known,” she reasoned coldly.

“I called Val from outside the studio,” he explained.  “There was probably a paparazzi hiding around, who either took the footage themselves or tipped off the producers for money.  I mean, I can’t know for sure, but that’s what I would think happened.”

She took in his words, nodding slowly.  It made sense, she supposed.

“Okay,” she stated simply.  A silence fell over them before he broke it in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you thought it was me.”

“Maks.”

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I didn’t say it made  _sense_ , that you would tell them.  I just didn’t know what else to think, and the way you were talking…” she trailed off.

“I was confused, too.  As to why you’re so upset.”

Her brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?” she questioned.  He shrugged, staring at the floor and twisting his foot back and forth.

“You said you didn’t want to keep me a secret,” he murmured.  “You said you weren’t ashamed of me.  And yet, the first time people find out something about us, you freak out.”

“That’s because I feel like I’m losing you,” she explained desperately.  “I feel like they took something that was ours and gave it to everyone else, too. I don’t want that.  I want you to be mine, not theirs.”

She exhaled shakily, biting her tongue and swallowing down tears that were threatening to fall again.

“Look what they’re doing to us already, Maks,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer.

“Maybe you should stay home tonight,” she suggested.

“No,” he countered, shaking his head.  “Don’t say that.”

“We’ve only been together a  _week,_  Maks.  We’ve already slept together.  We’ve already said I love you.  You’ve been practically living at my apartment.  Maybe we just need a night or two to…step back and put things in perspective.”

“But you’re leaving this week.”

“I know,” she sighed, chewing on her bottom lip.  “I know.  But we knew this was going to be hard, right?”

“Yeah.  We knew that.”

“It’s just a night or two.  No big deal,” she reasoned.

He still looked like a little boy who just lost his puppy.  She closed the gap between them slowly, wrapping her arms around him.  It took him a moment, but he thawed and held her, too, dropping his face to rest against the top of her head.

“You know I love you, Maks,” she breathed.  He pressed his lips against her hair.

“I love you too, princess.”

And they held each other.


	23. Week 5: Interlude

##  **Chapter 23 - Week 5: Interlude**

She sat on the counter in the kitchen in her pajamas, nonchalantly sipping a glass of water.  Her phone buzzed where it sat next to her on the marble countertop.

_Maks: I miss you._

She sighed as she stared at her phone screen, partly because it was absolutely ridiculous for him to miss her already and partly because she felt the exact same way.

She put her water down, moving her thumbs across the screen.

_Meryl: Maks.  This is crazy._

The phone buzzed again before she could put it back down, indicating he was on the other side, actively waiting for her to respond.

_Maks:  I know it is.  I know. I know I shouldn’t miss you this much and I know I shouldn’t feel for you as much as I do.  But I can’t help it._

_Meryl: Maks._

_Maks:  What do you want me to do, stop feeling what I feel?  I can’t do that._

_Meryl: Stop.  That’s not what I’m saying._

She put her head in her hand not holding her phone.  She could tell her was agitated by the tone and speed of his texts.  She could picture him in her head now, sitting at home, bottom lip jutted out, fingers furiously tapping against the keyboards.  The picture might have made her laugh in some other situation, when she wasn’t so worried.

_Maks:  Then what are you saying?_

_Meryl:  Maks, I’m not trying to start a fight.  I don’t want to fight._

_Maks: Me either.  I’m just confused._

Her brow furrowed at his words.  Confused?

_Meryl:  What are you confused about?_

_Maks:  It just seems like you love me a lot more when we’re alone than when we’re around other people._

She stared at his message, mouth hanging open in shock. How could he not be sure of her love? She’d told him multiple times. She’d made sure to reassure him after their disagreement at the show.  She’d even explained to him why she hated when others caught a glimpse of them: because she hated that others stole those moments from them.

And now he was questioning her.  It  _hurt_.  Like someone had just stabbed her in the heart.

Her phone vibrated again.

_Maks:  I know you talked about feeling like you’re losing part of me, and I get it.  But you can’t just keep me hidden in a box for the rest of my life.  There’s a point where keeping me such a secret starts to feel like it’s out of embarrassment._

_Meryl:  It’s not out of embarrassment.  I told you that.  Don’t you trust me?_

She waited for his rapid reply.

She didn’t get one.

_Meryl: What?  You don’t trust me?_

She was mildly offended.  Scratch mildly, actually.  She was  _hugely_ offended.

He responded quickly this time.

_Maks: I didn’t say that._

_Meryl:  Well, you’re sure as hell making it seem that way._

_Maks: It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just…_

She sighed loudly, the huff of breath echoing in her empty kitchen.

_Meryl: You just what?_

His next message stopped her heart.

_Maks:  You’re right, Meryl.  We need some time.  All of this is happening so fast and we need some time._

No, that’s not what she asked for.  She didn’t say they needed  _time_. That’s not what she said.

_Meryl: I said we needed to spend a night or two apart, not that we needed time._

Time sounded so… _drastic_. Time signaled an ending.  A breakup of something.  That’s not what she wanted.  That’s not what she had meant.

Her heart had picked back up again, but it was beating too fast.

He didn’t answer her again, and she was  _this close_  to panicking.

_Meryl: This isn’t the kind of conversation we should be having over text.  Why don’t you come over for just a little bit so we can talk in person?_

_Maks: Not tonight.  Like you said, a night or two apart.  I don’t want to end up staying.  Maybe tomorrow or something.  But not tonight._

He didn’t want to stay with her.  He didn’t want to be with her.

And she was  _this close_  to panicking.

_Meryl: Okay._

That was the only thing she could think to text back to him.

_Maks:  Okay.  See you soon, alright?_

_Meryl: Okay._

Her heart was beating so fast and her mind was so jumbled and she didn’t know what else to  _say._

_Maks:  Goodnight, princess._

There wasn’t an ‘I love you,’ and she didn’t miss that fact. Although there was a term of endearment; he called her princess, just as he always did.  This should have encouraged her, but it just broke her heart more, hearing his name for her under the present circumstances.  It hurt that when she imagined him saying it, it wasn’t in the sweet tone he always used.

And above all, it wasn’t an ‘I love you’.

She held her phone in her hand, stared off into the empty space of the kitchen.

“Maks,” she breathed.

She put her phone down after a moment of nothing, after the shock of a night that began with such promise and ended so sourly had worn off. She walked to her bathroom, brushed her teeth and washed her face before crawling into bed.

But she couldn’t fall asleep.

Nothing felt right.  The space beside her which he had begun to habitually occupy felt empty. She felt cold without him there. She felt unguarded.

He fit with her.  And even so early on, without him…

Nothing felt right.

She reached over to her nightstand, fumbling around until she found her phone in the dark.  Without even realizing what she was doing, she pulled up the keypad, her fingers punching in a number she knew by heart.

She put the phone to her ear.  After three rings, the line picked up.

“Hello?” her mother’s sleepy voice asked gently.  “Meryl?”

The sound brought tears to her eyes immediately, and she inhaled quickly, biting her lip and steeling herself so Cheryl wouldn’t notice her crying.

“Momma?” she whispered, curling herself further into the mattress, bringing the comforter just to the edge of her chin.

“Honey,” her mother sighed.

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly and shakily before speaking.

“I’m sorry.  It’s really late there, isn’t it?”

She could hear the soft rumple of sheets as her mother got out of bed and put on her robe, the squeak of the one floorboard in the hallway as she walked downstairs, probably turning on the dim lamp that sat by the microwave, plopping herself down on one of the barstools by the counter.

“Don’t be silly.  You’re my daughter.  You exist outside of time.”

Cheryl still spoke in the soft whisper that the night demanded, even though she was downstairs by now and surely wouldn’t wake anyone.

She didn’t say anything for a while, just listening to her mother’s breathing, trying to pick out sounds of home in the background.

“So?” Cheryl prompted finally.  “What brings my Meryl to call in the middle of the night?”

She hesitated, wrapping the comforter more tightly around her.

“Don’t want to tell me?”

She could practically hear her mother’s understanding smile through the phone.

“No, I do,” she insisted.  “That’s why I called.”

“Well then, get on with it.  We don’t have  _all_ night.  Half of it is already gone,” her mother remarked with a quiet laugh, bringing a smile to her face.

Though, she still hesitated.

“Meryl.”

“You watched the show?” she began, trying to sound uninterested.

“Every minute of it,” Cheryl answered promptly.

Her heart sank, just a bit, even though she had expected this answer.

“Then you already know,” she murmured.  “You have to.”

A beat passed between them, filled with the silent understanding that her mother  _knew_.

“Just say it already,” she begged Cheryl.

So she did.

“How’s the boyfriend?”

And her question broke her.

She began to cry, openly, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hide it from her mother for long, and thus not even trying to.  She sensed Cheryl’s concern turn on like a switch.

“Baby.  What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“We’re fighting, I think,” she explained, with an exasperated roll of her eyes.  “About stuff that’s not even worth fighting about.  It’s stuff we can’t control.  Why should we fight about it?”

“And it’s really bothering you,” her mother observed.

The statement made her pause, and then tears came with more fervor.

“I’m so stupid, Mom,” she wept.

“And why are you stupid?” her mother questioned.  She took a deep breath, stopped her crying momentarily, and listened for her mother’s breathing.

“Momma?”

“Meryl?”

“I love him,” she breathed.

And silent tears began to fall once more.


End file.
